Unspeakable Love
by olivialynlee
Summary: After a tragic death, Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts as a professor and finds that he may not be as alone as he originally thought. Sequel to Moonlit Memories, though not necessary to read first.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a sequel to "Moonlit Memories", set 15 years after the epilogue of that story. You do not need to have read it to understand what it happening in this story. Also, in this universe, HBP and the things that happened in that book do not exist.**

Severus Snape stood at the edge of the gravesite, the wind blowing his black robes around his tall thin frame. The black robes had always been a part of his persona, but now, more than ever, it was appropriate that he should be clothed in the color of mourning. He stared unseeingly as the headstone, wondering briefly how he had gotten here. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, trying to appear nonchalant as he stood at his wife's grave. Glancing up, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the words of the Headmaster.

"Serena Daniels Snape was an intelligent charming woman, whose mere presence alone could brighten any room. Her laughter and friendship will be dearly missed, particularly by those she left behind."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes swept to the three figures clothed in black standing at the edge of the grave. The distance between them belied the fact that they were all suffering a similar loss. Each one seemed lost in his or her own pain and sadness. Glancing over the large crowd of mourners, his spirit was buoyed by the outpouring of love and support from the staff and students alike. Losing a faculty member was never easy, but one as dearly loved as Serena, who was so vibrant and full of life, seemed especially difficult. Shaking his head, he breathed deeply before continuing.

"I am sure that we all have fond memories of Professor Snape that will guide us through the darkest moments. I, myself, am reminded of the moment she arrived here, nearly nineteen years ago, and of the way she and a certain Potions professor clashed on nearly every single matter."

Dumbledore saw Severus stiffen and sway slightly. He watched in concern as the man struggled to contain his emotions, and sighed silently as he succeeded. Dumbledore didn't mean to push, but he didn't want to see Severus revert to his old ways of bottling up his feelings and pretending that nothing was wrong. Serena had been the best thing to happen to Severus, but even she had not been able to break all of his old habits.

Clearing his throat, he continued. "However, as we all well know, that was merely a mask for how they truly felt. When Severus and Serena were married, I don't think I've ever seen two people happier. That is, until they were blessed with little Mesmordia, and a few years later, Sidney."

Dumbledore's inspection moved to the two figures next to Severus. Mesmordia's curly hair whipped around her face, her green eyes devoid of their usual sparkle and luster, her face as pale as her father's. She twisted her hands into the dark, black skirt and stood stiffly. At eighteen, she contained the grace and beauty of her mother, with the acerbic wit and moodiness of her father. Dumbledore remembered the day she had graduated from Hogwarts, less than two months ago, and how proud her mother had been. His gaze moved to Sidney, standing next to his sister, his hands shoved into his pockets, an angry look on his young face. Albus wondered how difficult it would be for him to navigate the trials of adolescence without his mother to guide him. How in Merlin's name was he going to help this family come together during this time of unspeakable tragedy? Pursing his lips together, he silently whispered a prayer asking Serena to help him prevent her family from splintering.

"Her tragic death was, and is, shocking and unimaginable. Yet, I have been assured by Minister Smythe that the Ministry will not rest until it determines exactly who was responsible for her death and to punish those involved to the full extent of the law."

Dumbledore watched a myriad of conflicting emotions on all three faces. Anger, grief, guilt, shame, rage, pity, and hate flew across the faces of her family at a dizzying speed, and he was unable to pinpoint which emotion matched which individual.

"She will be missed by all who knew her and loved her. For as we all are aware, to know Serena, was to love her. And there is no one who could ever hope to take her place."

Dumbledore bowed his head and stepped away from the tombstone, feeling a sense of guilt. He had never expected to outlive any of his professors, let alone someone as young as Serena. He walked toward the mourning family, trying to think of something appropriate to say. Clasping Severus on the shoulder, he tried not to take it personally when Snape refused to meet his eyes.

"Thank you, Headmaster for the kind words you had to say," Severus said in a low voice.

"It was the truth, Severus, as we both well know. I am so sorry for your loss. If you ever want to talk, my door is always open."

Snape lifted his head and gazed at the man in disbelief. They both knew that the offer would never be utilized. Snape may have mellowed in the nineteen years he had been married, but he would never have shared his feelings with Albus.

Moving to stand in front of Mesmordia, he felt a slight sense of déjà vu. Again, a dark head was bent staring at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, hoping the tenseness would leave the young woman. When the body remained stiff and unyielding, he pulled back and rubbed her arms, feeling a sudden sadness. Serena would never see her daughter fall in love, get married, or hold her grandchildren in her arms. Blinking back the sudden tears, he made a rash decision.

"I want you to come visit me tomorrow, Mesmordia. I have something I would like to discuss with you."

The green lifeless eyes looked up at him and she simply nodded. Turning to Sidney, he was dismayed by the anger evident on his face. Dumbledore was struck by the resemblance to Severus. Every time he looked at Sidney, he wondered if he had stepped into the past and was dealing with the sulking Slytherin, rather than his look-alike offspring. The same dark eyes, which stared back at him in distaste, the same dark shoulder length hair, even the same hooked nose, all clearly pointing to Snape as his father. Though Sidney's normally quick smile and laugh were reminiscent of his mother. Today, however, neither of those traits was evident.

The boy took a step back as if challenging Dumbledore to just try to pull him into an embrace. Respecting the boy's need for distance, Albus merely nodded and gazed at him. Sidney was very close to his mother and in many ways would suffer more than Severus or Mesmordia. He was already going through a difficult time in his life. Being fourteen was definitely not an uncomplicated task and losing his mother was not going to make the transition from boy to young man any easier.

"Sidney, as I said to your father, if you ever need to talk, my door is always open."

Albus watched as the anger slipped to reveal a look of hurt and pain. Then just as suddenly, the anger returned and Sidney sneered at him, his lip curling in a mirror image of his father.

"If you think I am going to talk to you, you are crazier than I thought."

"Sidney!" his father barked, glaring at his son. "Remember to whom you are speaking."

Snape's dark eyes met his son's and Severus winced at the familiar expression that he saw there.

"I want you to apologize to the Headmaster at once," he said in a low voice, tinged with a warning.

Sidney lifted his chin and for a moment looked as though he would refuse his father's order.

"Sorry," he ground out.

Dumbledore nodded. "It's alright, Sidney, I understand."

He watched the boy flinch under his easy forgiveness.

Shoving his hands back into his pockets, Sidney stalked across the ground toward the huge castle. Snape watched in resignation, wondering how he was going to get through the next few years.

Albus sighed, "Don't worry, Severus. Things like this have a way of working themselves out."

Snape turned on him, anger blazing in his eyes. "Yes, because things sure have worked out well now, haven't they? My wife is murdered, my children are left motherless, and I despise the fact that I seem unable to control my emotions. Yes, things have a way of working out." Snape whirled and followed his son's path, stalking away from milling mourners and the choking cloud of sadness.

Albus rubbed his eyes and groaned. Well, he had certainly muddled that one. Walking toward the crowd, he started ushering them away from the gravesite and toward the castle. As the mourners entered the castle before him, he turned to look one last time at the grave. He was struck by the crumpled figure on the ground, weeping vigorously, her shoulders shaking. Like a true Snape, she had bottled her feelings up and released them only when alone. Sighing as he closed the door, he wondered if it was possible to break a genetic predisposition to emotional aloofness.

**Please review and let me know what you think! It only takes a moment.**

**Also, I am taking a break from my other story "New Moon Rising". I apologize if you were reading it, but I am finding it a little difficult right now. So, I am planning on taking a step back and giving it some space. This story has taken up residence and I have to get it out. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Esme is Mesmordia's nickname. Dumbledore is the only one who calls her by her full name. I just didn't want there to be any confusion!**

Esme walked into the sitting room and looked at her father slumped in a chair in front of the fireplace. Her gaze swept over the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey on the nearby table. She sat down in the chair opposite him and took the opportunity to study him. His eyes were closed and there was a picture of her mother lying in his lap. Reaching across the space, she picked up the picture. A hand grabbed her wrist and wrenched it out of her grasp.

"Don't," Severus said, his words slightly slurred.

"I'm sorry," she replied, pushing her hair behind her ears. "I just wanted to remember…" She wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.

Snape glanced down at the smiling woman in the picture and then looked up at his daughter. Without speaking, he held out the frame, feeling a loss when it was taken from his hand. He watched as Esme held the frame reverently and caressed the face that smiled up at her.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would someone have wanted to hurt her? She never did anything to anyone. It doesn't seem fair."

Severus reached up and massaged his forehead, grimacing at the headache that was beginning to form. "Esme, life is not fair. If it were, it would have been me instead of her. Merlin knows that you two would have been better off with her."

Esme's head whipped up. "Why do you always do that? You are just as important to Sidney and me as mother. We would have been distraught either way."

Severus gazed at her sardonically. "Yes, but in the end, she was better equipped to raise you. I would have been missed, but life would have continued. This way…" His voice drifted off and neither one of them would, or could, complete the thought.

"Professor Dumbledore has asked to see me. He said that he had something he wanted to discuss with me," she said quietly, anxious to change the subject.

Snape turned to look into the fire. He watched as the flames danced and crackled as they devoured the logs. How he wished that he could be consumed with them. Perhaps then he would actually be able to feel something.

Turning back to look at Esme, he said softly, "Be careful, Esme. Every time Albus has wished to 'discuss' something with me, I ended up doing something I may not have wanted to do. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you." He laid his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. These last few days had been draining.

Esme stood and placed the picture back in her father's hand. She smoothed the hair on his head, tucking it behind his ears, grimacing as she realized that he was growing older. When she had been young, she had idolized his strength and sophisticated presence. Now in a few days, he seemed to have aged years. His jet black hair was now sprinkled with a few gray strands here and there. His face was lined and the shadows under his eyes made him appear fragile. She mentally smirked knowing that her father would berate her for even thinking he was fragile in any way. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on the top of his head, listening to his steady breathing.

"Don't worry, Dad. I know how to handle Professor Dumbledore." She walked away from the sitting room before hearing her father's reply.

"That's what I always thought."

Esme stood outside the Headmaster's door, wondering why she was hesitating. She was unsure what he wanted to discuss with her, but she sincerely hoped that it was not simply a ruse to get her to share her feelings with him. She cared deeply for Dumbledore, and she considered him to be the grandfather she had never had. However, he was also meddlesome and didn't know when to let things lie. He was also the only that she allowed to call her by her full name, though she wasn't sure why. Ever since she could speak, she had tried to correct it when he would call her 'Mesmordia'. Eventually, she had given up and tried not to wince when she heard him speak her name.

Knocking lightly, the door swung open to reveal the smiling face of the Headmaster. She looked up into his blue eyes and was shaken by the concern that she saw there.

"Mesmordia, I am so glad that you are here." He stepped forward intending to pull her into an embrace, but she sidestepped into the room, successfully evading the arms.

"Yes, well, you did request my presence." She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to let his hurt look penetrate her protective shell. Closing the door, he walked to his desk and took a seat, waiting as she stood there for a moment before taking a seat across from him.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she looked at the Headmaster waiting to hear what he wanted. Albus shook his head. Perhaps he should reconsider what he was about to propose. He studied the girl, no he mentally corrected himself: woman, in front of him. She was brilliant in many subjects, but her social skills left little to be desired. Even when with someone she had known since her birth, he still got the feeling that she would rather be curled up with a book in the library than having any sort of personal discussion. Perhaps that is why she had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Esme's eyes narrowed at his perusal and she shifted in the seat. Ever since her father had told her that Dumbledore could, if he chose, read her thoughts, she had felt exposed when with him and tended to avoid him as often as she could.

"There was something you wished to discuss with me, Professor?" she asked, hoping to end this discussion as soon as possible.

"What are your plans, Mesmordia? Now that you have graduated, what did you plan on doing with your life?"

"I-I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I thought when I graduated that I would know immediately what I wanted to do, but I have no idea. My father wants me to go to a university and continue with a classical education."

"But you aren't sure that is your desire?" Albus finished for her.

Esme shook her head forcefully, the curls flipping her cheek. "No," she said quietly. Then she looked up in horror at what she had just revealed. "Please don't tell my father. I don't want to disappoint him."

"I am sure that he would not be disappointed in you. Severus simply wants the best for you and he thinks that an education would be beneficial. Besides, what you and I discuss in this room, stays between the two of us." He smiled at her disbelieving look.

"Since you are not sure what you want to do for the rest of your life, I have a proposition for you."

Esme stared at him warily, her father's warning sounding loudly in her mind. "And what would that be?"

Albus brought his hands up to his lips and was silent for a moment. Looking at her, he continued. "With your mother's untimely death, we are in need of a new professor."

Esme's eyes widened and she took a shuddering breath. The thought of being in her mother's classroom, surrounded by her notes and books was too painful. "I cannot teach her class. There are too many memories in that room," she said brokenly.

Esme grabbed the edge of the chair and leaned forward remembering the last time she had been in that room. She had helped her mother catalogue all the books and assisted in preparing her lesson plans for the upcoming year. Lesson plans that she would not be using.

Dumbledore held up a hand, "No, no my dear, you misunderstand me. I do not want you to teach your mother's class. I already have someone in mind for that position."

Esme raised angry eyes to his. "So, I guess my mother was easier to replace than you intimated in your eulogy."

Dumbledore sighed. He was really messing this up. Taking a deep breath, he continued with his proposal, ignoring her angry look. "Professor Flitwick has opted not to return for the forthcoming school year. I discussed with him appropriate replacements and your name was at the top of his list. He mentioned that he was unsure how you felt about teaching, but that you had tutored several students over the last few years with great success. What I am trying to say, rather poorly it seems, is that I would be honored if you would consider accepting the Charms position."

"I am not sure that teaching is what I want to do for the rest of my life," she said sullenly, sinking back against the chair.

Albus chuckled lightly. "I am not asking for a lifetime commitment, Mesmordia. I simply ask that you give it a year. Perhaps you will come to love teaching as much as your mother and father."

Esme snorted. She wasn't sure that she would say that her father loved teaching. But she didn't want to divest Dumbledore of his questionable notions. She sat there for a few moments, considering his offer. On the one hand, she may hate teaching immensely. Merlin knows she had little patience for incompetence. On the other hand, what else was she going to do? She had no desire to attend university, and if she did stay, she could still be with her father and Sidney. If she were being honest with herself, leaving Hogwarts had seemed a depressing prospect, especially now that her mother was gone. At least here, she would have her memories to remind her.

Glancing back up at the Headmaster, she made an impulsive decision. "I accept the position, Professor." Now she would just have to find a way to break the news to her father.

**Please let me know what you think! Any feedback is appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: When my sister proofread this for me, she wanted to know why Harry was so angry with Dumbledore. There is a good reason, well good in Harry's mind, but I do not want to reveal all that at this moment. His reaction to Dumbledore's visit is due to ten years of bottled up anger and resentment, so that is why he acts the way he does. I hope that it all makes sense! **

**Disclaimer: I have forgotten to put these one the other chapters, but as we all well know, I do not own any characters except Esme, Sidney, and Serena. All other characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

* * *

Harry Potter ran a hand through his black hair and looked down at the unopened letter lying on his desk. The familiar scrawl seemed to mock him. No matter how old he got, any message from Dumbledore made him feel like a child called on the carpet to answer for some misdeed or be told of some plan that he wanted no part of. It was one of the many reasons that he had not visited Hogwarts in so long. After the defeat of Voldemort, the relationship between the two had become strained to the point where it was uncomfortable for Harry to even be in the same room with the Headmaster. It seemed once he had fulfilled his 'destiny', he was no longer needed.

Grabbing the letter, he walked over to a chair near the hearth and sat down. He threw the letter on the coffee table and waved his hand toward the dark fireplace. A fire leapt to life with a roar and created a warm intimate glow in the quiet room. He closed his eyes and listened to the popping and crackling of the wood, wondering why he was putting off the inevitable. Opening his eyes, he reached for the crystal tumbler on the table and the bottle of scotch nearby. Pouring a generous amount into the tumbler, he capped the decanter and sat back, holding the glass up in the firelight. He loved the way the light shone through the amber liquid. Taking a sip, he grimaced as it burned a path down his throat. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. It was now or never. He leaned forward, set the glass on the table and picked up the letter. Turning it over in his hand, his broke the seal and read the short note.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I know it has been awhile since we last spoke, but you are always in my thoughts. There is something that I need to speak to you about. Would it be possible for me to floo in tomorrow night at 8:00? This is something I need to address in person. I hope that whatever issues you and I have had in the past, you will put them aside for the good of Hogwarts. I hope to see you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_A. Dumbledore_

Harry dropped the letter back on the table and smirked. It must be pretty important for Dumbledore to suggest coming to Harry. He was never one to give up the advantage of meeting on his terms and in his office. Rubbing his eyes, he felt a sudden weariness. Why did he think he could fight against Dumbledore's will? He had never succeeded before and it didn't seem like he would be succeeding now. Standing up, he trudged over to his desk and sat down, pulling a sheet of parchment toward him. Picking up the quill, he jotted a quick, terse note.

_Fine. Tomorrow at 8:00._

_Harry_

He folded the parchment and addressed it. Calling for Hedwig, he tied it around her leg and said, "Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts."

At her disapproving look he just groaned and waved her toward the window. "I know, I know. I swore I would never again let him dictate what I should do."

He smoothed her feathers down and smiled. "This is the last time, I promise."

Hedwig just eyed him, as though she didn't believe him. He sighed and opened the window, watching as she spread her wings and glided through the moonlit sky. He closed the window and contemplated what Dumbledore could possibly have to say and how he could say no to whatever it was.

* * *

Harry sat in front of the fireplace, awaiting the arrival of Dumbledore. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, despising the fact that he was allowing a visit from the Headmaster to disrupt his life. As the clock on the mantle struck eight, Dumbledore stumbled from the fireplace. Wiping the soot off his robe, he looked up and smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling in a way that made Harry feel even more nervous.

"Harry, my boy. I am so glad that you agreed to see me. I must admit I was a little fearful that you would refuse my request." Albus took the seat opposite Harry, smoothed his beard and straightened his glasses.

Harry shifted in his seat, "Have I ever refused when you have asked me for something?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips and studied Harry. He was no longer the awkward teenager he had been when he graduated from Hogwarts. He had grown a few inches taller and filled out, probably due to his physically demanding job as an Auror. His once unruly hair was now tamed into a smooth shoulder length style that was tucked behind his ears. He still wore the wire-rimmed glasses, but they appeared to be new and properly framed his face. Dumbledore's eyes swept over the familiar scar that, though slightly faded, was no longer hidden behind a curtain of bangs. Dumbledore smiled slightly. Harry no longer seemed to be hiding his identity. Not that he could when his face was splashed on the front page of the Daily Prophet every other day.

"How long has it been, Harry?" Albus asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Not long enough," Harry muttered under his breath. Looking back up, he said quietly, "It's been ten years since you and I last spoke, seventeen since I left Hogwarts. How time flies when you're saving the world," he said bitterly.

Albus stared at him, clearing his throat before speaking. "Harry, I'm not sure exactly what it is you think I've done, but you know that I care about you. I have been very concerned about you, and I am not the only one. I have spoken to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger and they say that you refuse to speak to them as well. Whatever you may think, you are not alone, my boy."

Harry's eyes blazed. "What gives you the right to speak to anyone about me? I am no longer your student, your savior, or your responsibility."

"But you are someone I care about, Harry. In many ways, I consider you to be a member of my family. I tried to treat you as such."

"Well, you'll have to forgive my ignorance, but I have little experience with families and what would be considered appropriate treatment." Harry gazed into the fire, feeling the familiar ache that settled in his chest whenever he thought about his family.

"Harry," Dumbledore began.

Turning his icy eyes back to the Headmaster, Harry interrupted, "Wasn't there something that you wished to discuss with me?"

Albus mentally sighed and nodded, clearly understanding Harry's signal that this part of the conversation was over. "I am sure that you heard about Professor Serena Snape's death?" he said, quietly.

"Yes. I know that she was in Diagon Alley when she disappeared and that the body was found in the Forbidden Forest by a student."

Dumbledore winced at the cold, clinical tone in which Harry related the details.

Harry continued, "The Ministry is looking into several different leads." He gave Albus a reproving look. "But you know that I cannot share with you any information from those leads."

Albus shook his head, "I didn't expect you to, Harry, and that is not the purpose for my visit."

Harry looked at him suspiciously. "Then why exactly are you here?"

Dumbledore rubbed his lip, trying to consider how to word the purpose of his visit, without angering Harry, which almost seemed a difficult and impossible task. "I am trying to fill several different faculty positions. Professor Flitwick has finally retired. He's been contemplating it for several years now, but he finally made the decision. Thankfully, I have recently filled that position. Also," he paused and looked at Harry over the rims of his glasses, "due to Professor Snape's death, I am in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. That, my dear boy, is why I am here. You are my first and only choice. Who better to guide our students than the boy who defeated Voldemort and then went on to become the youngest and most successful Auror?"

Harry gaped at the man. "Are you still so presumptuous? What in the world makes you think that I would consider giving up my position to become a teacher?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Consider it a sincere hope that I could convince you to return to Hogwarts. And maybe more selfishly, I wanted to try to mend our fractured relationship."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at the Headmaster. Crossing his arms, he asked, "You've had ten years to seek me out and to, as you so eloquently put it, 'mend our fractured relationship'. Why now?"

"Serena Snape's death has reminded me that time is precious. Nothing is more important than making each day count and having your loved ones close."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and snort. He hadn't heard such sentimental drivel in a long time. Probably since the last time that he had spoken to Dumbledore. But he presented an intriguing offer. Harry was weary of the life of an Auror. In fact, recently he had even contacted several magic schools and universities inquiring about available positions. Harry would have laid money on the fact that Dumbledore was aware of this and was one of the reasons that he approached Harry about this particular position. Besides it wouldn't hurt publicity for Hogwarts to have the Boy Who Lived as a faculty member. He smirked. He was well aware that his status as a celebrity, however that status was earned, was more important than who he truly was. It was something that Harry had grown used to, but never appreciated. However, returning to Hogwarts held a lot of appeal for Harry. It was the last place that he had been truly happy. He bit his lip and watched the fire blaze. Perhaps he could find that elusive happiness once more.

Looking the Headmaster directly in the eyes, he said brusquely, "I can give you one year. No more, no less."

Albus breathed a sigh of relief and hid a small smile. "That's all I was asking for, my dear boy. That's all I hoped for."

**Well, please let me know what you think. Any feedback is appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am not sure about the scene between Harry and Sidney. There is something about it that is bothering me, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: As always, I own only what I own (and that is very little). All else belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

* * *

Esme entered the sitting room and sighed. Her father was sitting in the chair by the fire surrounded by empty bottles. She watched as he leaned forward, pushing the empty bottles aside and picked up a nearly full bottle of Firewhiskey. He tried to pour some into his glass, but his trembling hands were unable to pour more than a quarter of an inch into the bottom of his glass. She watched the rest of the amber liquid spill over the table and saturate the plush black carpet. The room reeked of alcohol and she doubted that her father had moved since yesterday. Walking over to stand in front of him, she gently pushed him back in the chair, took the glass out of his hand and set it on the table. Crouching down, she placed her hands on the arms of the chairs, effectively trapping him there, and peered into his bloodshot eyes. 

"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked, quietly. "It won't bring her back you know."

Her father glared at her. "When you've lost a spouse, then you can tell me that I've had enough. And I know it won't bring her back, but maybe it will make me forget, at least for a little while."

Esme shook her head and looked at her father sadly.

Severus tilted his head and studied her. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "You look so much like her, you know."

She smiled and leaned into his hand. It wasn't often that her father reached out to her or offered any physical contact. "Except for the hair, of course," she reminded him. It was a family joke that Esme was a miniature of her mother, save for the mass of curly black hair.

Severus dropped his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What time is it?"

"It is half past twelve. You missed breakfast and lunch and I was a little concerned."

Severus just looked at her. "Who's the parent here, Esme? I think I am fully capable of taking care of myself."

She stood up and kicked the empty bottles aside as she made her way to the opposite chair. "Yes, it certainly looks as though you know how to take care of yourself." She sat down. "What if Sidney had come in? Do you think he would have understood? He hasn't been the same since…."

Severus held up a hand. "Don't presume to tell me how to raise my son. Sidney and I will be just fine, even after you leave for university."

Esme crossed her legs, shifting slightly. Now would be a really good time to tell him that she had no intention of leaving Hogwarts. That in fact, she was now a full fledged faculty member. She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to be stuck in her throat. No matter what Dumbledore had said, she knew her father would be disappointed by her decision.

Looking up at her, his eyes narrowed as a memory penetrated the alcohol fog that clouded his mind. "What did Dumbledore wish to discuss with you?"

Esme uncrossed her legs and pulled them up under her. Smoothing her skirt over her legs, she lifted her hand and studied her fingernails.

Severus jerked at the familiar gesture. It was one that Serena often used when she didn't want to tell him something. "Esme," he said softly, "What did Albus wish to discuss with you?"

She looked up and smiled tightly. "He offered me the Charms position. Professor Flitwick has finally decided to retire."

He stared at her, his dark eyes burning. "Of course, you turned it down. You are going to attend a university in the fall, not teach a bunch of hormonal dunderheads."

Esme shifted uncomfortably, turning from her father's dark gaze to look into the fire. "Actually, I accepted the position," she whispered.

"What? How could you be so stupid? I want you to go tell him right now that you've changed your mind. Your mother had a classical education and you will as well."

Esme jumped up and glared at him. "I am not my mother!" she yelled. "I don't want to have a classical education. I have no desire to attend a university now or in the near future." She clenched her fists as tears sprang to her eyes. "Why can't you understand that this is my home and I don't want to leave Sidney, Hogwarts, or even you, as aggravating as you may be?"

Severus took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "You are young, Esme. You don't know what is best for you. Teaching is not what you want to do for the rest of your life, believe me. You will attend a university and then we can discuss your options."

She shook her head, staring at him incredulously. "Are you even listening to me? This is my life. I have made my decision and you will have to live with it. I don't know if teaching is what I want to do, but I want the opportunity to decide for myself."

Severus clenched his teeth. "I am your father..."

She interrupted him, "So help me, if you say, 'and you will do what I say', I will never speak to you again."

Esme took a step forward and looked at him beseechingly. "Please, I just want you to support me. Let me live my own life and make my own choices."

"I cannot support you in this, Esme. I cannot support you if you insist on throwing your future away," he said quietly.

"So be it," she whispered, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She wondered if this would be the final issue that would destroy their already fragile relationship. "But this is my choice, and I hope that one day you can respect it."

Severus watched as she left the sitting room, her head held high and her back straight, so reminiscent of her mother, even if she didn't want to admit it.He grimaced and cursed Dumbledore for meddling in his family's life. Leaning forward, he picked up the glass that Esme had set on the table. He looked at the amber liquid that offered him the opportunity to silence Serena's voice in his head. Turning the glass, he watched the liquid splash and swirl around the bottom. Without warning, he threw the tumbler against the fireplace, watching in satisfaction as it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, much like his heart.

* * *

Harry stepped off the Express and gazed around. He had informed Dumbledore that he would not require an escort to the castle. Instead, he wanted to take the opportunity to get reacquainted with the grounds. Truth be told, he just didn't want to deal with any of the individuals that Dumbledore may send to collect him. No telling how awkward that may have been. He raised his head to the sky, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. A sense of peace settled in his chest and he knew that he had made the right decision. Already, the pressure of his job as an Auror melted away. He smiled and started walking down the path toward Hogwarts. Harry loved this time of year. The sun was shining, the land was lush and green, and the air was crisp and fresh. It was definitely a long way from London. 

As he neared the castle, his steps slowed and he looked around. Frankly, not much had changed. The castle was still as impressive as it had been when he had first glimpsed it. The lake was shining and rippled as the wind swept over surface. In the distance, he saw the Forbidden Forest, although it no longer seemed as dark and imposing as it once did, perhaps because he had seen so much darkness in the last few years. Glancing to the right, he saw a wrought iron gate. That was new, and he wondered briefly how long it had been there. His forehead creased as he studied the arch above the gate, taking in the large archaic letters: **Τελική Γλώσσα** His Greek was a little rusty, but he roughly translated it to mean 'rest in peace'.

"Since when has there been a cemetery on the grounds?" he asked out loud, as though expecting an answer to come from the air.

Walking over to the gate, he peered through the bars, taking in the granite headstones. He roughly estimated that there must be about twenty or so there. Opening the gate, he winced as it squeaked open, announcing his arrival to any one who happened to be nearby. He strolled up to the first tombstone and read the name, a cold chill running through his body. _Neville Longbottom._ Harry walked to the next one, his legs shaking, somehow knowing whose it would be. _Ginevra Weasley._ He dropped to his knees next to the ornate headstone and traced the letters. Looking around, he suddenly knew when this cemetery had been founded. Most of these people had died in the final battle. People he should have been able to protect.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny. I should have been able to save you. You more than anyone else," he whispered. Harry bowed his head and closed his eyes against the tide of tears that threatened to spill over. He hadn't cried since that day and he certainly did not want to start now. Suddenly, he heard a low voice, indicating that he was not alone. He cursed his stupidity in allowing his emotional state to take precedence over his usually unassailable security measures. Standing up quickly, he scanned the area, until he saw a young boy over by the far side of the cemetery. He was sitting beside a headstone, his black hair obscuring his face. Harry watched as he laid some purple blossoms on the fresh grave. The boy looked up and Harry could have sworn that he was looking at a young Snape, as he had appeared in the Pensieve so many years ago. But knowing that was impossible, Harry concluded that this must be Snape's son.

Walking over to the gravesite, he smiled inwardly at the glare that the boy gave him. Yep, it was definitely Snape's son.

"What are doing here?" the boy asked suspiciously. "This is not a public cemetery."

"I know. I am the new DADA professor and I was just visiting some old friends." He gestured back toward the headstones near the gate.

"Oh, then you knew the Fallen," he said reverently.

"The what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"The Fallen. That's what Professor Dumbledore calls the witches and wizards that died in the final battle against the Dark Lord."

"Is that why this cemetery was built? To remember the… Fallen?" Harry almost choked on the word.

The boy nodded his head, turning his gaze back toward the headstone. "Yes, but not everyone in here died during the final battle." He reached over and straightened the blossoms that he had placed on the grave.

"Those are lovely. Delphinium, right?" Harry asked, clearly sidestepping the main question of who the grave belonged to.

The boy turned a scornful gaze on Harry. "You're kidding right? This is heather, more commonly referred to as lavender. Delphinium has darker blossoms. I thought everyone knew that." He turned his gaze back to the headstone, and his voice softened. "They were my mother's favorite. She always smelled like lavender. Do you know the meaning of lavender?"

Harry shook his head, entranced by the openness of the boy, but feeling as dim as he had in Snape's Potions classes.

"It means: admiration. My father used to give her a bouquet every morning; because he said that he admired her intelligence and passion." He turned and added mischievously, his dark eyes sparkling. "I think he just enjoyed the kiss she would give him as a thank you."

Harry smirked. That was just what he wanted to know about Snape: that he used flowers to acquire affection.

"You seem to know a lot about plants," Harry said, trying to steer the conversation away from any more anecdotes about the boy's family.

"My father is the Potions master and I've accompanied him on many trips to gather ingredients. He believes that fresh ingredients make more potent potions. I've been around plants since my birth, and I am expected to be able to differentiate between the varieties." He sneered at Harry. "Unlike some people, it seems."

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling a slight sense of discomfort at all the personal information that the boy had shared with him, as well as the fact that he had just been insulted by Snape's doppelganger. Harry's lips twitched. Well, he wanted to feel at home, and it certainly wasn't home until he was insulted by Snape, even if it did happen to be a different one. Taking a step back, he decided to end the conversation.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you, but I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore is waiting for me." He turned and started walking away from the boy, intending to put as much distance between himself and the cemetery as possible.

"Wait! You never told me your name." the boy yelled. "My name is Sidney Snape. What's yours?"

"Harry Potter," he called back, not breaking his stride.

Sidney watched the figure hurrying away from him. "Harry Potter?" He looked at his mother's headstone. "Did you hear that mother? Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts, and he's taken your job." His eyes narrowed at the thought of anyone but his mother in the DADA position, especially a saintly Gryffindor. Wait until Dominic Malfoy heard about this. He sat back and began composing a list of ways to make Harry Potter regret accepting the position, ignoring the voice that said his mother would not approve of what he was planning.

**Please let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated. **

* * *

**There are a couple of people I could not respond to on the new system:**

Floatey948: Thank you for your kind words. I am glad that you are enjoying my story. I think you may have read my mind in regards to the romance. I hope that you like the rest of the story!

Eyeinthesky: Harry will not really be the 'nanny', because the kids are really too old for a nanny. However, he will definitely be instrumental in healing old wounds. Also, thank you for the kind compliment about the set-up of the story. It is very important to have a good base, don't you think? Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

SeverusSnapePotionsMaster13: I always enjoy your reviews. Thanks for the kind words and I am looking forward to your next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am starting to feel really sorry for Dumbledore. He has ticked off a lot of people in my story. LOL! But don't worry. Things will get better for him. I truly am not attempting to turn him into villain, I promise. Also, a small warning: I am changing the rating on this story, because I used a couple of questionable words in this chapter. They are not truly offensive, but I don't want anyone to be surprised. Also, I know these last few chapters have been angsty, I promise the mood will lighten eventually. Well, maybe somewhat. : ) Anyway, please read and review!**

Severus stalked up to the Headmaster's office, trying to control the rage he was feeling. Esme had not talked to him in two days and it was all Dumbledore's fault. The fact that Albus would dare offer her a teaching position, when he was well aware of the plans that Severus and Serena had made, was appalling. Somehow, Severus knew that he should not be surprised by the Headmaster's meddling, but his lack of respect still stung.

Rapping sharply on the door, he took a deep breath. The door swung open and Severus glowered at the man before he could utter some inane pleasantry.

Albus' smile slowly dissipated. "Why don't you come in, Severus? I've been expecting you."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Severus said darkly, as he brushed past Dumbledore and entered the room.

Albus sighed and closed the door, feeling the anger radiate off Severus. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he wondered what he was doing wrong. It seemed like no matter what he did, someone was absolutely furious with him.

Making his way to his desk, he sat down and eyed the man still standing stiffly in the middle of the room.

"I was just about to order some tea. Could I persuade you to join me?"

Snape sneered at the weak attempt to placate him. "Tea is the last thing I came here for, Headmaster. But I am sure that you are aware of that."

"Yes, I am well aware of that. But to be honest, I expected you here a little sooner. I assume you were indisposed." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and looked at him knowingly.

Severus flushed at the veiled reprimand. Dumbledore gestured to the empty chair. "Please have a seat, Severus, and let's have a civilized discussion."

Severus moved and sat down awkwardly on the edge of the chair. He looked at his hands clenched in his lap, reminding himself to remain calm. Looking up at Albus in annoyance, he said, "Why in the world would you offer her a job? You know what Serena and I wanted for her."

Albus sighed and massaged the area between his eyes. It seemed he had done nothing but deal with angry individuals over the last few days and he could feel a headache beginning to form. Maybe once he got through this, he could impose on Severus for a headache remedy. He dropped his hand and said quietly, "I know what you wanted, but it wasn't what Mesmordia wanted."

"She is my daughter, not yours," Severus said through clenched teeth. "It was not your place to turn her head with your words. She had her life before her and with one suggestion from you, she has abandoned all the plans that we've made."

Albus stared, a shocked expression on his face. "Turn her head? What exactly do you think I could have said to convince her to do something that she didn't want to do in the first place?" Dumbledore waved his hand, as though waving aside Severus' argument. "No, I didn't have to turn her head. She's stubborn and untrusting, traits I know she inherited from you, but underneath it all she wants to please those she cares about. She was willing to give up her desires to make you and Serena happy. I merely gave her the opportunity to make her own decision, to live her own life. You have taught her well; don't you trust her, Severus?"

Snape melted into the chair, the anger that he had harbored for the past two days slowly fading. Propping his elbows on the arms of the chair, he leaned his head back, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over him. He hadn't slept in almost two days and that lack was beginning to catch up with him. He silently conceded the fact that Albus may have a point, though he would never admit it out loud. Closing his eyes, he answered, resignation coloring his voice, "Of course I trust her. I just don't want to see her stuck in a job she hates for the rest of her life."

"Like her father?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape tightened his lips and nodded slightly. "I just want the best for her."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "I would expect nothing less. However, she is no longer the three year old who follows her father around like a shadow, doing everything he says."

Severus lifted his head, his mouth twisted into a disdainful smile. "No, she is definitely not that little girl any longer. What happened to the girl who listened to every word I said and obeyed without question, knowing that I was looking out for her interests?"

"She grew up. It does tend to happen to the best of us. We grow up and our parents are no longer the all-knowing, infallible beings that they once were."

Severus glowered at Albus. "I am not letting you off the hook, you know. Especially if she decides two weeks into the term that she despises teaching."

Dumbledore held up his hands and grinned at Snape. "I accept full responsibility for whatever may happen."

"And the next time you feel the urge to meddle in the lives of my children…"

"I will speak to you first," Dumbledore finished for him. Snape nodded in approval and stood.

"I will take my leave then. I must start preparing for the new term and Poppy mentioned that she was out of some various potions, which will take me awhile without S-"

Dumbledore watched as Snape's mouth closed with a snap and a shuddered look settled on his face. He knew that Serena and Severus had often worked on the potions for the Infirmary together. He opened his mouth, but was unsure what to say that wouldn't strain the shaky truce that seemed to have been reached in the last few moments.

Severus looked at the ceiling briefly, and took in a shaky breath before looking back at the Headmaster.

His mouth set in a grim line, he said quietly, "Anyway, I must go." He turned and quickly made his way to the door, practically fleeing the enclosed room. Dumbledore sighed as the door closed, knowing that the next school year would be particularly difficult.

* * *

Severus closed the Headmaster's door and shakily wiped his mouth. He licked his lips and contemplated heading back down to his chambers and finishing the bottle of Firewhiskey he had opened two days ago. It sounded a hell of a lot better than returning to a lab full of memories. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed his weakness and the emotional episode he'd just had, especially since Dumbledore had witnessed it. Now he would no doubt be receiving invitations for those blasted teas on a regular basis in a feeble attempt to get Severus to share his feelings. His lip curled in disgust. There had only been one person with whom he had shared his feelings and he wasn't looking for a replacement.

Slowly, he started walking down the hallway, wondering if he could make it a whole school year when everything that he did and everywhere that he went, reminded him of her. Turning the corner sharply, he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't see the person in front of him until it was too late. Hitting a wall of human flesh, Severus lost his balance and sprawled on the floor in an ungraceful heap. He looked up in anger at the man who was somehow able to remain upright despite the impact.

"You idiot! Why don't you watch where you are going?" he growled.

The man held out a hand which Severus grudgingly accepted, only to be pulled roughly to his feet.

"I could say the same for you, Professor," he said, his lips twitching in amusement.

Severus dropped the hand and dusted off his robes, muttering under his breath about careless people. Glaring at the openly amused man, he gave his most intimidating look: the one that would turn the first years into a quivering mass of jelly slugs. His eyes focused on the faded scar on the man's forehead and the menacing glare wilted, replaced by a look of bewilderment.

"Potter?" Severus asked questioningly. Harry Potter hadn't been back to Hogwarts since he had graduated. Why in the world would he be here now? Suddenly, with a flash of insight, Severus knew. He was here to take Serena's place. A bubble of burning anger settled in his chest. Less than a week after he buried his wife and Dumbledore already had a replacement lined up.

Harry watched the conflicting emotions flicker across his old Professor's face: confusion at his presence, understanding abruptly dawning, and then the inevitable anger. Harry took the moment to study the man in front of him. He had aged since the last time Harry had seen him. Of course, it had been seventeen years, so he guessed he shouldn't be too surprised. But what did surprise him was the vulnerability that seemed to be surrounding his once most hated teacher. Harry frowned. Vulnerability and Severus Snape was not a combination that made Harry feel comfortable. In fact, Harry had relied on the strength of Snape during the final battle. It had been one thing that he could consistently count on.

Harry cleared his throat and said softly, "I was sorry to hear about your wife, Professor Snape. She was an exceptional teacher."

Snape's angry expression faded and a cold look slipped into place. "Thank you, Potter, for your condolences, but if you're here for the funeral, then you are a little late."

Harry winced at the biting tone behind Snape's words. He should have been here. Serena Snape had been his teacher for four years and many of the spells and counter-curses she had taught him had been instrumental in defeating Voldemort.

"I apologize that I was unable to attend. My work keeps me extremely busy," he said lamely, the words sounding false even to his own ears. He had been an Auror for a long time and was able to deceive the most dangerous wizards and witches in a variety of circumstances that required him to think quickly on his feet, but put him in front of his former Potions professor and he was suddenly unable to think of a convincing story.

Snape merely nodded, a sneer on his lined face. Potter never changed, always thinking of himself. At least the brat could have come up with a credible lie. Serena's voice flittered through his mind:

"_Why are you so hard on him, Severus? He's just a boy," she said._

"_A boy who is responsible for the fate of the entire wizarding world." He tilted his head and gazed at her in disapproval. "I think I should be a little harder on him. He has to realize what he will be up against."_

_Serena shook her head, her green eyes glittering, "I think he is well aware of what he is up against. I don't think he needs you to remind him of that. But he deserves the chance to be a boy and not have to worry about what evil may be around the next corner. Let him live his own life and enjoy what happiness may come his way."_

Snape blinked his eyes rapidly, pushing the memory aside. His face paled and his hands started to tremble slightly. Clasping them together, he hid them in the folds of his robe. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak in the eyes of anyone, let alone Harry Potter.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Even without his years of training as an Auror, he wouldn't have missed the trembling hands or pale face. "Are you all right, Professor?"

"I'm fine, Potter," Severus answered harshly. "Mind your own business." He jerked his head toward Dumbledore's office. "He is waiting for you. I'm sure you are anxious to begin your new assignment, but don't for one instant think that you can replace her."

He pushed past Harry and stalked down the hall, his robes swirling around his frame. Harry shook his head as he realized that some things never changed. Snape always did know how to make an exit. He bit the inside of his cheek. The sight of Snape in pain was a disturbing one. When Harry had been his student, he had often wondered if the Potions master had a heart. Now, in the span of a few moments, he not only realized that the hateful man had a heart, but that it was obviously broken. Harry wasn't sure how that fit with his memory of an insufferable, unfeeling Snape, and he wasn't sure that he wanted his preconceived notions to change. Turning, he walked the few feet to Dumbledore's office. He sighed deeply, feeling as though he was walking from one confrontation to another. Knocking lightly, he momentarily wondered if Snape would be alright, and if the snarky bastard he was used to would return.

A few floors away, Snape dropped into the chair near the fire and grabbed the bottle off the table. Pouring himself a glass, he set the decanter down and picked up the frame. He gazed at the woman in the picture. Although she was smiling at him, he could almost sense her disapproval. Turning the frame over, he laid it gently on the table.

"I'm sorry, darling," he choked out as he drowned the contents of the glass. The amber liquid flowed to his stomach, leaving a warm trail in its wake and creating a familiar fuzziness that seemed to soften the edges of his pain. He sat back, his eyes watering, although he wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or something more disturbing.

**Please let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but to make up for it I made the chapter extra long. However, this chapter bothers me for some reason. It could be the fact that I have read it 50 times trying to tweak it to say what I wanted. As always, let me know what you think.**

Harry sat down at the desk, eyeing the stacks of books and papers that had been placed there by Serena Snape. He was almost loathe to touch them, to disturb the neatness of a woman who would never have the opportunity to use them. The desk was now almost a monument to her meticulousness as a teacher. He leaned an elbow on the desk and rested his head in the palm, toying with the edge of a book on top of one of the stacks. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. He hadn't been content as an Auror, but who knew if he would be here? Grimacing, he thought back to his conversation with Snape. Well, if you could really call it a conversation. Maybe clash was a more accurate word. Honestly, his meeting with Dumbledore hadn't been much better. Dumbledore had merely assigned his quarters and said that he would send Professor Snape's former assistant to help him organize the contents of Serena's classroom. It had been a stilted affair that Harry had been only too happy to escape when it was all over. Groaning, he concluded that this hasty decision was looking better and better all the time.

He pushed back from the desk and knew that he should really start preparing. The start of the term was only a few weeks away and he had no idea of what topic he was even going to cover first, and even worse, he had absolutely no clue where to begin. He hoped the assistant would be able to give him some guidance. Hearing a knock, he looked up to see a young woman peer around the open door. His eyes narrowed as he took in the dark curly hair pulled back and tied loosely at the back of her neck and the large green eyes that stared at him apprehensively. She was certainly very young to be an assistant, Harry thought.

"Professor Potter?" Her husky voice was low and inquiring as she entered the room. "Professor Dumbledore sent me to help you sort out the room." Her voice wavered slightly and her hands twisted in front of her as her eyes surreptitiously swept over the room. A look of sorrow flickered briefly across her face, only to be replaced by a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

"Well, I can definitely use all the help I can get." He watched her smile widen slightly as she stepped closer to the desk. "And you are?"

She blushed, "Oh, I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Esme."

"No need to apologize, Esme. Are you here for the summer?" Harry questioned. He knew that sometimes students who had recently graduated would often intern with certain professors during the summer before attending university.

Esme's eyes clouded with confusion, and then brightened as she realized what he was implying. "Oh, no. Wow, I am really making a mess of this, aren't I?" She shook her head as though reprimanding herself. "I am the new Charms professor. Professor Dumbledore simply asked me to come down and assist you, because I… well because I…." her voice drifted off.

"Because you were Professor Snape's assistant," Harry finished for her.

She cringed. "Yes, something like that." Harry knew that there was something that she wasn't quite telling him, but considering they had just met, he didn't feel like he could press her. Besides, he had to surrender his Auror role sometime and stop trying to interrogate everyone he came in contact with.

"Where would you like me to start, Professor Potter?" Esme asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Well, to begin with, since we will be colleagues why don't you call me Harry? Besides, hearing Professor Potter makes me feel so old." Harry grinned.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him solemnly. "I think that you should probably get used to it, Harry," she said, trying out his name, "because you will be hearing it a lot."

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I shall have the students call me by my first name. What do you think Professor Dumbledore would think of that?" Harry asked with a wicked gleam, trying to see if he could coax a real smile out of her.

He was rewarded with a small smile. "Somehow, I don't think he would approve, but you never know. I could see you somehow getting away with it," she said.

Harry laughed at her candor. "And just how would you know what I could get away with? We've only just met."

She leaned toward him and said in a mock whisper, "Yes, but you see, the stories of Harry Potter are quite legendary around here."

The smile left Harry's face and he turned his head away, resenting the fact that no matter where he went he was always 'that famous Harry Potter'. He rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth before answering quietly, "You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Esme. Very little of it is actually true."

A tense silence filled the room. Esme bit her lip wondering why she was cursed to deal with temperamental men. She had her hands full with her father and Sidney, and she really didn't want to add another name to that list. Sighing quietly, she walked around the desk and opened the drawer on Harry's right. Pulling out a large file, she set it on the desk in front of Harry and opened it.

"These are the lesson plans that my-," she paused and took a deep breath. "That Professor Snape prepared for the new term. She kept very detailed notes and plans, so feel free to use whatever you choose." Her voice softened, "She would be pleased to know that they were helpful."

Harry flipped through the first few pages, grateful that she hadn't seemed to take his moodiness to heart. "You're right. These look very detailed. I am sure that they will be a big help." Looking up at the woman standing next to him, he was drawn to her large eyes. They seemed so familiar. In fact, everything about her seemed familiar, but he knew that they had not met before.

"Excuse me," she said as she reached behind him and opened the opposite desk drawer. Pulling out another large file, she set it on top of the lesson plans. Opening it, she leaned over and flipped through the new pages. "This is an up-to-date inventory that we completed this summer of all the books and items in the room."

She was so close that Harry could smell the shampoo that she had recently used. His eyes narrowed as he placed the smell: lavender. It seemed to be too much of a coincidence that he had come into contact with lavender twice in as many days. Pulling back, he looked at her again, studying her face intently. Mentally he made a checklist of the features that had seemed so familiar: large green eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, dark hair and expressive eyebrows. Straightening up, Esme looked at him, wariness in her eyes at his intense perusal.

"Is there something wrong, Harry?" she asked, her smooth, cultured voice wrapping around him. Even her voice was reminding him of someone.

Looking back down at the inventory, he flipped through the top two pages and asked nonchalantly, "How well did you know, Professor Snape?"

"Wh-What?" she stuttered, taking an unconscious step back. "She was my mother. I thought you were aware of that."

Harry shook his head. "No, I wasn't. No one bothered to mention that fact."

She walked around the desk. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hide it." She leaned against one of the student desks and looked at him. "I just get so tired of the pitying looks that everyone keeps throwing my way, that talking about it is the last thing I want to do."

"I can relate to that," he said quietly. "It really doesn't matter; I was just trying to figure out why you seemed so familiar. And now I know."

Esme smirked. "Ah, yes. I know I look a lot like my mother, I probably should have said something. Again, I apologize."

"You have a lot of your father in you as well," he said, disturbed by the image of her smirking at him. What was it with Snapes and smirking? It must be a genetic thing, he decided.

She inclined her head in agreement. "I often hear that as well." She looked at him seriously. "I know that you and my father did not get along when you were a student."

He stretched his legs, feeling a tingling from sitting so long. Standing up, he walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his ankles and folding his arms across his chest. "That may be putting rather mildly, I think."

"Whatever you may think about my father, he does respect you and what you were able to accomplish."

"He has a funny way of showing it," he said, the bitterness evident even to him.

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Yes, but you see, that is just my father. He has trouble expressing his true emotions. Once you know that, it makes him a little easier to understand." She wagged a finger at Harry. "But don't you dare tell him I told you that. He would have my head, probably literally," she joked.

Harry chuckled. "I'll have to take your word for it." They stood there for a few moments in a comfortable silence. He looked up to find her staring at the floor, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I must say," he began, "for someone who just lost her mother, you certainly are taking it well. Better than most would, I suspect."

He held his breath wondering how she would react to his assessment. It was rather forward, even for him.

She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes never leaving the floor. "I have to be strong for my father and Sidney. They are struggling, and showing my pain would only increase theirs."

"Yes," he said, wondering why he was still pushing. "But she was important to you as well, and you can't bury you feelings forever."

Esme pushed away from the desk and looked at Harry, a cold look in her eyes. He suddenly knew that he had said too much. "I think that you have enough to keep you busy, Professor. I will return tomorrow and you can tell me if you will require further assistance."

Before he even had a chance to respond, she turned and swept from the room, so reminiscent of Snape's exit yesterday, though she was missing the robes swirling around her. He sure wished he knew how to do that. Returning to the desk, he picked up the top folder and started reading through the list of books that Serena had acquired over the years. However, his mind kept returning to Esme's insistence that she had to be strong and not show her true emotions. Uncomfortably, he realized that he was operating under the same belief. He wondered if either one of them would ever be able to express how they truly felt or if they were doomed to forever put the needs of others ahead of their own.

* * *

The next morning, Harry entered his classroom and was surprised to find Esme was already there. She was sitting on the floor in front of the bookcase, her back to him, carefully dusting off each individual text. From the size of the stack on the floor, she had been there for quite awhile. 

"Good morning," she said without turning around.

"Morning," he answered. Harry walked to his desk, setting the folders down that he taken to his room to read. "Listen, about yesterday," he began.

"What about it?" she asked casually, though he noticed that her hand hesitated as she reached for the next book.

"I just wanted to apologize for overstepping my boundaries. It is certainly not any of my business. We just met and for me to criticize you was…' his mind searched for an appropriate word. Finding none, he finished weakly, "not right."

She turned toward him and narrowed her eyes, as though trying to figure out his intentions in apologizing. He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

Turning her attention back to the books, she said quietly, "There is nothing to forgive."

Harry pursed his lips and considered saying something else, but thought better of it.

Gesturing toward the books she was meticulously cleaning, he asked, "What are you doing?"

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. "Believe it or not, I am cleaning your books. My mother had a very specific cleaning schedule. Once in the summer before the term began, and then once during the holiday break. She hated the cliché that old books must equal dusty books."

Harry sat down in one of the student chairs and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I can see that you are cleaning them. What I meant was _why_ are you cleaning them by hand?" He pulled his wand out. "You could just say a quick spell and your work would be done."

She looked at him in horror, rising slightly to place her body between Harry's wand and the bookcase. "You can't use magic on these books. They are hundreds of years old. The bindings may not survive such a spell."

He lowered his wand and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Esme remained where she was for a few moments, as though she didn't trust him not to try it anyway. Once she was certain that he wasn't planning on using a spell as a shortcut, she eased back down and picked up the book she had dropped. Harry watched as she flipped through the pages, and then wiped off the front cover and back cover with a damp rag, only to immediately wipe them off with dry one.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Is that water that you are using?"

She stared at him open mouthed. He shifted under her scandalized gaze and muttered, "I guess not."

Shaking her head, she answered, "It is a restorative potion my father created to protect the books from wear and tear. You simply wipe it on and then wipe off the excess and it will be protected for several months. My mother was very particular about her books."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "It would seem so."

Throwing a rag at him, she pointed to the other end of bookcase. "Why don't you make yourself useful and start at the other end."

Harry shivered and stood up. "You sounded like you father when you said that. I almost expect you to assign me detention next." He leaned over and picked a tattered book from the shelf.

Esme's head whipped up. "Detention!" she said, delightedly. Harry straightened and looked at her incredulously, not really sure if he had just been given a detention.

She waved at hand at him dismissively. "No, not you. I just realized that I can now assign detentions." She giggled as she put the book she had cleaned on the nearest stack.

Harry stared at her. "Now you are really starting to scare me. Was it really necessary to channel your father there?"

Esme threw her head back and laughed. Harry watched entranced. It wasn't like the dainty laugh or polite chuckle he was used to hearing from women he knew or met at Ministry events. This was a boisterous deep laugh that was startling and very inviting. His eyes traveled from the intriguing glimpse of neck, revealed to him as she laughed, up to her green eyes that were sparkling brightly.

Mentally smacking himself, he turned his attention back to the books, suddenly very aware of her presence in the room. For goodness sake, Harry, he thought, she is young enough to be… for some reason herefused tofinish that thought.

Finishing the task in silence, Harry sat back and looked at the stacks of books lying on the floor. Dropping the rags on the nearby desk, he wiped his hands together and looked at Esme expectantly.

"What now?" he asked.

Her mouth curved at his eager tone. "Now we replace the books on the shelf, remembering, of course, to alphabetize them."

"Of course, as if I would place them any other way. Who doesn't alphabetize their books?" he said, teasingly.

Esme just gave him a dark look. Harry held up his hands in surrender and started with the pile nearest to him. Since they had already been in alphabetical order on the shelf, it was surprisingly easy.

Standing back, they both eyed the expansive bookcase that now shone. Esme reached out and flicked a hand over the top shelf, pushing the books flush against the back of the bookcase. Her hand lingered on the books and he wondered if she was thinking about her mother.

Picking up the used rags, he handed them to her and said, 'Thank you for all your help. Considering how yesterday ended, I wouldn't have been surprised if you hadn't returned."

She wrinkled her forehead and shook her head, not understanding why he was making such a big deal about it. "I said I would return and I did."

"Not everyone would," he replied.

Esme didn't respond. Instead she reached into the pocket of her black skirt and pulled out a key. "Oh, I nearly forgot. This is the key to the cupboards in the back. They have been spelled so you will not be able to use magic to open them. Everything that you may require for your lessons can probably be found there."

Harry held out his hand and she placed the key in the center of his hand. Holding the key up to inspection, he said, "So I guess you're telling me not to lose this key." He lowered the key just in time to see her mouth twitch.

"That would probably be a good idea," she said softly. She looked around, "Well…"

"How is your room coming?" Harry interrupted.

She gave him an odd look. "Fine. I should be done with it in a few days."

"Even with all the help you've been giving me?"

"It hasn't been that much, Harry, only a few hours." She held her hands out, looking around the room. "And it appears as if we are done."

"Yes, well, I do appreciate the help. If you need any assistance I will be glad to reciprocate."

She smiled in amusement. "I shall keep that in mind. I'll see you at the staff meeting."

She walked to the door and was gone before he could even think of a response. Palming the key in his hand, he slipped it into his pocket and returned to his desk. Sliding into the chair, he rubbed the back of his neck, easing the tense muscles. Who knew cleaning books could be such hard work? Eyeing the bookcase, he snorted, "Detention, indeed." He smiled to himself before turning his full attention to the work in front of him.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Wow! I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I have been really busy and trying to find a moment to sit down at my computer has almost been impossible. I made the chapter extra long and should have another chapter this week. Again, I am sorry for taking so long. Please read and review. I truly appreciate it!**

Esme knocked on the door to her father's laboratory, waiting until she had heard the invitation to come in. She had learned her lesson as a child never to enter his lab without permission. As she waited, she shifted, gripping the book tightly in her hands, hoping that her father would appreciate what she had done, but realizing that she was probably expecting too much.

"Come in," he said, his gruff voice sounding clearly through the heavy wooden door.

Pushing it open, she entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She turned and looked at her father bent over the cauldron. Placing the book on a nearby table, she walked over and stood beside him.

"What are you working on?" she asked, attempting to peer over the edge of the cauldron. She knew that it was probably a potion for the Infirmary. Normally by this time, he had already stocked the Infirmary's storeroom with the basic potions and salves that Madam Pomfrey would need to begin the term. However, this year was a little different.

He turned and gave her an exasperated look, waving her away from his area. "You should be able to tell."

She grimaced and stuck out her tongue. She always hated his on-the-spot quizzes. As the daughter of the Potions master, she was expected to identify a potion by sight, smell, and sometimes taste. Although she really hoped that he would not make her taste any potions today. When she swallowed, she swore she could still taste the Strengthening Solution she'd had to taste a few months ago as one of his challenges. Turning to look at the ingredients on the table, she eyed them intently.

"Let's see. Echinacea, goldenseal, hellebore," she ticked off the ingredients on her fingers and turned an impish grin to her father. "I would say that you are brewing a Pepperup Potion."

He shook his head, not even bothering to look up, as he observed the steaming potion. "It certainly took you long enough."

Esme frowned at the dismissal. "Couldn't you just be pleased that I was able to identify it? Most people wouldn't have been able to tell you what it was using only three ingredients."

Severus glanced up for the first time since she entered the room, a disapproving look on his face. "You are not most people. You are my daughter and I expect better."

She bit the inside of her cheek, holding back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. "May I help?" she asked curtly, once she was certain she could control herself.

Severus straightened and gestured toward the mortar and pestle on the other side of the table. "Grind those echinacea roots into a fine powder." He gave her a stern look. "Make sure it is a fine powder and that there aren't any clumps in it."

She muttered under her breath as she pushed up the sleeves of her blouse. Picking up the pestle, she started grinding the roots. She felt her father's eyes on her, observing her progress.

"Put your shoulders into it," he said. "I don't want to come over there and have to redo it." Dropping the pestle, she glared up at him.

"Do you want to do it yourself? I believe that you were the one who taught me how to grind roots, but if you don't trust me then, by all means, please do it yourself."

Snape smiled slightly at her angry tone. "No, no, please continue." He picked up the nearby knife and started chopping the goldenseal. "Well, now it seems like old times. I was wondering where you had gone off to."

"What do you mean 'gone off to'?" she asked as she resumed her grinding.

"You haven't seemed like yourself lately," he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "Even before your mother's death." He was silent for a few moments as he laid down the knife and checked the cauldron, sprinkling the goldenseal over the bubbling potion. As he stirred the herb into the concoction, he continued, "You've been withdrawn for several months and strangely compliant. It has been very," he paused and looked at her, "unsettling."

"You're complaining because I've been an obedient and respectful daughter?"

"Complaining is not the word I would use. I am concerned, because you are not, and have not been, behaving like yourself."

She pushed roughly against the pestle feeling a certain satisfaction as it scraped loudly against the bottom of the mortar. "Perhaps you should save your concern for Sidney. He needs it more than I do."

Severus looked up from the cauldron and gave her a warning glance. "Esme," he began.

"I know, I know. You are the parent and I am the child. But do you even know where he is? Do you know that he spends all his free time in the cemetery talking to mother's headstone? Does that not concern you in the least?"

"We are not going to discuss this," he growled.

"No, Merlin forbid that we discuss anything that makes you uncomfortable. No matter who may end up paying in the end." She put the pestle down on the table and looked at her father. He was standing stiffly in front of the cauldron, refusing to look at her. She didn't even know why she tried. She watched him drop the rest of the chopped goldenseal into the cauldron, stirring it precisely three times. He stepped back and glanced at her. Without saying a word, she handed him the mortar. He held it closely, moving the powder aside with the tip of his knife. She knew that he was searching for clumps and that he wouldn't find any. She was the Potions master's daughter after all.

Sniffing, he said, "It will do." Esme felt the brief pang of satisfaction she always felt when her father praised her, as rare as it may be. When he did compliment her, she knew that it was sincere and that they weren't merely words to assuage her insecurities.

He passed the hellebore to her and opened his mouth to give her directions.

She shook her head and glowered. "I know what to do."

He rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. I forgot that you are now an expert in Potions simply because you now have the unfortunate duty of teaching Charms."

"No, I am an expert because I have made this potion countless times and I watched you and mother brew it every summer that I can remember," she replied, a small smile lighting her face.

Severus stopped and watched her. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she did know what she was doing. Her knife strokes were swift and precise, making short work of the hellebore. He felt a sense pride watching her. Why had he never noticed before how much like him she was?

Esme looked up and caught her father staring at her. She gave him a questioning glance. Looking back down at the hellebore, she asked, "Am I doing something wrong/"

"No, your work is sufficient."

Esme just shook her head knowing that she couldn't expect more of a compliment. Finishing up quickly, she wiped the knife off and placed it back on the table. She handed the minced hellebore to her father and watched as he finished up the potion.

"About Sidney," she began.

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought we decided that we were not going to discuss this."

She inclined her head and said, "Actually, you decided that we were not going to discuss it. I, however, am very concerned about him."

Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He is grieving, Esme. Let him be. We all grieve in different ways."

"Yes, some of us grieve at the bottom of a bottle," she said coolly, not even flinching under Snape's glare. "But it is not healthy to converse with the dead for hours each day."

"If the boy wants to talk to his mother, then who am I to stop him?"

Esme just shook her head, incredulous that her father was not the least bit worried about Sidney. "Fine, just don't come to me when the term starts and we can't drag him out of the cemetery for classes."

"Mesmordia!" he said, heatedly. She looked up, not used to hearing her full name from her father's lips. Snape rubbed his forehead wearily. "Just let him be. If it continues, I will address it." He eyed her and said forcefully, "_I_ will address it, not you."

She turned away, feeling the sting of dismissal for the second time since entering the lab. "As you wish," she said quietly. "If we are done, I have a few things to prepare before the staff meeting." Her hand was on the door, when her father's voice stopped her.

"Where did this come from?"

Esme looked over her shoulder and saw her father holding the book she had placed on the table earlier, a pale look on his face.

"I found it in Harry's classroom and knew that you would want it."

He pierced her with his gaze and asked icily, "Harry? Since when do you call Professor Potter, Harry?"

She blushed, shifting under her father's stare. "He told me to call him Harry, since we would be colleagues and all that."

"Does he know that you took this book from the room?"

Esme shook her head slowly, her eyes on the floor. "Mother said that it was the first gift you ever gave her," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "She told me it was the book she treasured the most, not because of the content, but because of the sentiment. I couldn't just leave it there." She ran the back of her hands over her eyes, wishing she could be as self-possessed as her father.

Severus traced the letters on the cover reading them silently: _Potions for the Modern Age _by Herbert Mullins. He hadn't seen this book in years. He closed his eyes and saw Serena sitting in front of the fireplace, her head bent over the book. That was the first moment of true happiness that he could remember. Severusopened his eyes and saw her stiff, protective stance, as though she were waiting for the lecture he knew he should give, following her admission that she had practically stolen from a fellow professor. The book may not technically belong to Potter, but it was a part of his inventory and he should have been consulted before it was removed from his classroom. He opened his mouth to berate her utter lack of respect for the property of others, but found he could only say, "Thank you."

He watched the look of shock cross her face and wondered how they had drifted so far as to only expect the worst from each other. He stepped forward and gathered her in his arms, knowing that Serena would expect him to. "Thank you," he whispered again against her hair. He felt the shudders run through her body and the tears that wet his shoulder. Stroking her hair as she sobbed, he made a silent vow to Serena that he would try to be a better father and not to allow their children to suffer alone, although he honestly wondered if he was capable of fulfilling such a promise. Time would certainly tell.

* * *

Snape entered the teacher's lounge in a foul mood. He had better things to do then waste his time in pointless staff meetings, such as finishing up the potions for the Infirmary that should have been done weeks ago. He slumped in a chair near the door hoping to make a quick exit as soon as Dumbledore was finished. Although knowing the Headmaster as well as he did, Severus was sure they would be there for several hours. The old goat did like to drone on. Snape watched the rest of the professors drift in, milling around and catching up with each other. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the hum of superficial conversations swirling around him. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, glaring at anyone who even dared to think about approaching him. Esme entered the room, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her robes swirling around her. Severus just stared at her. When did she suddenly grow up into a young woman? Her eyes searched the room and landed on her father.A corner of her mouth lifted in amusement as she took in his seat near the door and his unapproachable posture. Tilting her head, she looked pointedly at the chair next to him a question in her eyes. He nodded once and she glided over and sat down next to him.

Severus looked at her out of the corner of his eye. With her hair pulled back, the resemblance to her mother was even more remarkable. His mind was drawn back to the first time he met Serena. The spell was broken when Esme leaned in and said quietly, "How long do these things usually last?"

"Longer than I would like," he replied.

"Did you finish the potions for the Infirmary yet?" she asked.

He just shook his head, wishing that he were back in his quiet lab.

"I would be willing to come back and help you finish up. I have nothing better to do," she said softly, hoping that their previous encounter meant that he would not push her away as he normally did.

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing as he considered her offer. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than the complete and utter privacy his laboratory provided. On the other hand, he knew he would be unable to complete the work on time by himself, and he did not want this year to be the first year that he was unable to stock the Infirmary storehouse. "Alright," he conceded, "if you have nothing better to do."

Esme sat back, a satisfied expression on her face. She looked up as Harry entered the room. He scanned the room, smiling widely when he spotted Esme. Snape was strangely pleased to see the smile waver slightly as the brat's gaze shifted to him. Harry ran a hand through his hair, and walked over to stand in front of them.

"Good afternoon, Esme, Professor Snape," he nodded his head toward his former professor, acknowledging him. His eyes went back to Esme. "I just wanted to thank you again for showing me how to properly clean your mother's books. I would not want to be responsible for any damage, and that potion seems really handy."

Esme felt her father turn slightly in his chair, staring at her. A blush spread up her cheeks and she managed to croak out, "It was not any trouble, Harry. It was my pleasure."

Harry smiled, his gaze flickering over to Snape. "Well, I better find a seat before Professor Dumbledore starts the meeting. I'll talk to you soon." He nodded toward Snape and said politely, "Professor."

Snape just smirked, watching as Harry walked away and made his way to what he mentally called the 'Gryffindor' section of the room. Shifting his attention to Esme, he took in the blush that was still present on her face and the way her eyes followed Harry's trek across the room. Merlin help him. Anything but this.

Esme turned and caught her father's scrutiny. "What?" she asked, defensively.

"You tell me. Suddenly, I find out that you are all chummy with Potter; using his first name like you were the oldest of friends, cleaning his books, and you are blushing like some besotted teenager. Is there something you wish to tell me?" Snape glared across the room at the affable man who was laughing at something Hagrid had said. He knew that he could handle anything, except a daughter who had, he sneered slightly, 'feelings' for Harry Potter.

"There is nothing I wish to tell you, Father, and glaring at Harry is not going to work. We are friends and we will remain so. I think I am beyond the age where you can tell me who I can and cannot be friends with." Esme replied, her green eyes flashing.

Snape snorted but his reply was cut off by the arrival of the Headmaster in a flurry of bright blue robes. Snape closed his mouth and shifted in his chair, somewhat grateful that the conversation had been interrupted. He found it difficult to talk to Esme at times. She was stubborn, willful, argumentative, and from time to time an irritating know-it-all. It was like trying to reason with himself.

"Ah, welcome everyone to the start of another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, his eyes sweeping across the room and warmly smiling at everyone. "I am so happy to see all these eager faces ready to begin the new term." His eyes landed on Snape's scowling face, and his lips curled in amusement. Gazing back at the rest of the staff, he continued, "This is going to be a great year, one that will forever change the destiny of Hogwarts and the occupants of its hallowed walls."

Snape almost groaned. Was it really necessary to use the same speech year after year? You would think the man could come up with something different after all this time. At least some slight variation. Severus was sure that anyone of the tenured faculty members could have recited the welcoming speech and saved Albus his precious breath. He looked at Esme out of the corner of his eye and was amused to see her sitting on the edge of her seat, taking in every word the Headmaster was saying. Oh, to be young and impressionable again. Snape's attention shifted back to Headmaster as he continued.

"As you all are aware of, we have two new professors joining the staff here at Hogwarts. Harry Potter will be teaching our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and with his background as an Auror, I am sure that he will bring some hands-on experiences to the students that will be greatly beneficial."

Snape watched in interest as Harry stiffened and looked coolly at the Headmaster. There appeared to be some sort of tension between the two. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he wondered what possible could have happened to separate the Headmaster from the Golden Boy's affections.

"Also, the Charms position will be filled by our very own Mesmordia Snape, who has decided to put off the university for a year."

Harry caught Esme's eye and mouthed 'Mesmordia', a smile tugging on his lips. Esme grimaced and stuck her tongue out in disgust, which caused Harry to laugh. Snape's arms tightened against his chest as he watched the exchange, causing him to take a deep breath as he cut off part of his air supply. Esme looked at her father sideways in concern. He loosened his arms and just shook his head at her unasked question. She turned back toward Harry and gave the man a brilliant smile that made Snape's stomach drop. He'd seen that smile so many times before on a similar face. To see that smile turned on Harry Potter of all people, was truly distressing.

Tuning out the Headmaster's speech, he tried to think of how he could convince Esme to end this, whatever it was, with Potter. Shaking his head in frustration, he knew that no matter what he said or did, she would do what she wanted to do. If he knew his daughter as well as he thought he did, forbidding her to see or become friendly with Potter would only increase the odds that she would run straight to him. No, this was a delicate operation: one that would require patience and cunning. There was only one way to turn Esme against Harry: to let the brat make a mess of things as he normally did. When that happened, Severus would be there to shatter any illusions she held about the Boy-Who-Lived. A slow smile crept up Snape's face as he eyed Potter. Oh yes, this plan held definite possibilities and tonight would be the perfect opportunity to begin to plant seeds of doubt in her mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I wanted to add more, but have been unable to. So I decided to give you what I had and promise another chapter this weekend. Please read and review!**

Sidney entered the sitting room and flopped onto the settee with his sister. Esme glanced at him in irritation as he jostled her arm, nearly knocking the book she was reading out of her hands. Her face softened as she studied her brother. There were dark bags under his eyes and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. He shifted and laid his head on her lap, his legs dangling off the end of the couch. Settling in, he closed his eyes, and let out a huge sigh. She closed the book with a snap, wedging it between her thigh and the arm of the settee, a small smile forming on her lips. Pushing his hair behind his ears, she stroked his eyebrows mimicking their mother's oft used calming gesture, watching as the strained look melted away.

"Where have you been, Sid?" she asked softly.

"In the cemetery," he replied with a yawn. Esme bit her lip and wondered how far she could take this conversation without angering her father.

"Do you," she paused, glancing at the fire and taking a breath, "do you think that it is wise to be spending so much time there?"

"I find it comforting to talk to her," he mumbled. She ran her fingers through his hair, concerned that he received more comfort talking with a headstone than with her. They had always been close. When she was younger, many of the staff members had called her 'little mother', because she was always taking care of him when their parents were busy brewing potions or preparing for classes.

"I'm not the only one," he said sleepily.

Esme's brow furrowed. "The only one?" she questioned.

"That talks to the dead," he turned his head toward the back of the settee and folded his arms across his chest.

"Who else spends time in the cemetery?" she asked.

A small smirk crossed his face. "The great Harry Potter, that's who. I was sitting by mother and I saw him enter the cemetery. He didn't see me, and I didn't let him know I was there. He sat down by one of the Fallen and just started talking." Sidney opened his eyes and looked up at his sister. She shuddered slightly at the dark look.

"What did he say?" she asked softly, hating herself that she was prying into Harry's privacy. What did it matter what he said? Many of the Fallen were his friends and loved ones. Of course, he might want to visit them.

Sidney's eyes narrowed as he searched his sister's face. "Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.

Esme shrugged her shoulder and looked away from her brother's intense gaze. "No reason," she said. "Just simple curiosity, I suppose."

Sidney snorted and hid a smile. This was going better than planned. He swung his legs off the arm and pushed himself up.

"Well, it gets better, my dear sis. He was sitting by the Weasley girl's grave. I only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, and Merlin knows I couldn't move any closer." He watched Esme wince at the mention of Ginevra Weasley's name. Sitting back, he waited for her to continue the conversation, counting on her inquisitiveness to win over her sense of propriety.

"What did you hear?"

'Oh, Es,' he thought, 'you really are too predictable.'

"Something about being sorry, loved only her, and that there would be no one who could take her place," he watched in sad satisfaction as the words sunk in. He knew that he was doing what needed to be done to protect Esme from making the worst mistake of her life, but he hated to hurt her.

"I guess Potter does have a heart after all. Or at least he did," he said, a slow smile spreading up his face. Esme stood up and plucked the book out of the cushion, clutching it to her chest.

"I-I need to go. I just remembered I promised Minerva that I would let her borrow a book," she said. Sidney shook his head. She was an appallingly bad liar. No wonder she'd been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin.

"Alright, I need to go talk to Dad anyway. Is he in the lab?"

Esme nodded and smiled tightly. "Of course, did you expect him to be anywhere else?"

"I guess not." He stood and faced his sister, a thoughtful look on his face. "Shall I see you at dinner?"

Esme looked up in confusion, missing his question. "I am sorry, Sid. What did you say?"

A flash of anger shot through him. Maybe it was already too late. "I said: will I see you at dinner?"

"Um, yes, I suppose so." She ran a hand through her hair and turned toward the door. Sidney watched her leave, so distracted she forgot to even say good-bye. He clenched his teeth and went to report to his father.

* * *

Sidney pushed open the door to Snape's lab and let it slam shut behind him. Severus glanced up from the book he was reading and smiled at his son.

"How did it go?" he asked, setting the book aside, giving his son his full attention.

Sidney shook his head. "I think she believed me, but I think she may be too far gone for it to matter."

Snape gazed at him scornfully. "Don't be ridiculous. She has only known him for a little over a week. That is not enough time to form any sort of attachment, romantic or otherwise."

Sidney jumped up on the table, his legs hanging off the edge. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he considered what his father said with his sister's behavior. Catching his father's eye, he shrugged. "Perhaps, but she took the idea that Potter was still pining over Ginevra Weasley pretty hard. I mean, most people wouldn't have been able to tell. But I've always been able to read Esme pretty well."

Snape sighed and rubbed his eyes. This was not going well. "We will just have to work all the harder, then. Esme is planning on helping me finish the last of the potions tomorrow. I will continue where you left off." He gave his son a sideways glance, "By the way, what do you have planned for Potter?"

Sidney grinned wickedly. "Oh, Dominic and I have been discussing several ideas. He is coming a few days early and we will make our final arrangements."

Snape nodded contemplatively, before giving Sidney a warning look. "Just be sure that it can't be traced back to you or Dominic, or Merlin forbid, me."

Sidney looked at him in exasperation. "Dad, this is me. I think I can pull a couple of pranks on Potter and not get caught."

"Make sure that you do. The last thing we want to do is something that causes Esme to turn to Potter for support, or vice versa. We must be patient and wait for the opportunities to come to us." Snape stood and started pulling out the tools he would need for tomorrow.

"So that's it? You are going to convince her that he's still in love with Weasley and I am going to pull a couple of pranks?" He looked doubtful. "That seems like a pretty weak plan Dad, especially for you."

Snape's hand hovered over the knife. He picked it up and placed it flush against the cutting board. "That is not my only plan. I am working on another avenue, but one that I hope and pray I do not have to use."

"What is it?" Sidney asked hesitantly, not sure if he truly wanted to know.

Severus threw a leveled gaze at him. "Something that could break your sister's heart."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here is the chapter I promised. Warning: bitter Harry shows up in the second scene which is not good news for Dumbledore. Anyway, please read and review. Tell me what you think. It is appreciated!**

Severus lay down the knife and glanced at the silent girl across the steam. She had been extremely quiet since entering the lab, saying no more than a few words and only when asked a direct question. He watched as she picked up a quill and started scratching on the label of a vial, only to pause and study the contents as though she had already forgotten what they contained. Biting her lip, she finished writing the name of the potion on the label, blowing gently on the ink to dry it. Setting it down, she picked up the next vial and he watched her repeat the process.

"Esme, is something wrong?" he asked. She glanced up in surprise, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open. 'She forgot I was even here,' he thought ironically.

Turning her attention back to the vials, she shook her head. "No, I am just really tired. I didn't realize how much work needs to be accomplished before the beginning of a term." She smiled wanly at him. "No wonder you and mother were always exhausted."

His stomach dropped at the mention of Serena. Irritated, he wondered if it would ever get easier to hear her name, or if he would flinch with every allusion to her. Picking up the knife, he began cutting the gingerroot briskly.

"Not to mention the fact that you have been doing work for other professors," he said curtly.

"Don't start," she replied evenly. "I only helped him for a few hours. Why are you making it something more? Between you and Sidney you would think…"

His hand stilled and he felt his heart began to race. Oh, please don't say it. "Think what?" he asked, glad that his voice did not betray his distress. "And why do you assume that I am talking about Potter? Minerva and Sinestra told me that you had volunteered in their rooms as well."

Esme turned her head and cursed under her breath, realizing that she had just walked into a trap. Turning cool eyes on him, she merely smiled and replied, "I assumed, because Harry is the only one that you seem to mind that I assist."

"Contrary to popular belief, Esme, I don't despise Potter. I never did. He actually earned my respect after the war." He paused. "However, I also know him well enough to know that if you persist in forming a 'relationship' with him, friendly or otherwise; you will live to regret it."

Esme took the bottles that she had labeled and carefully placed them in a crate for the Infirmary. Closing the crate, she set it on the back table. Reaching under the table, she brought out the next empty crate, setting it on the table and prying off the lid. Without looking at her father, she asked quietly, "Regret it how?"

Snape felt a small measure of satisfaction that she had taken the bait. But he suddenly understood Sidney's unease. The fact that she cared enough to rise to the bait was certainly disconcerting.

Clearing his throat, he spoke so softly that Esme had to lean forward to catch his words.

"Death and misery follow Potter, Esme. Everyone that he has gotten close to has suffered. How many of his loved ones actually survived the war? And how many has he pushed away since then?"

"That is not his fault. He was drawn into the war against his will like so many others. He simply played his part."

Severus sighed. "Ah, that may be true, but it changes a person nonetheless. Especially when you cause the death of someone you love."

Esme blanched and leaned back on her heels. "Ginevra Weasley?" she asked quietly.

Snape's hand tightened on the knife hilt, wondering how far he was willing to take this. "Little Ginny. She was a bright one. I was sorry that of any of the Weasleys she was the one who had to die."

"Dad," Esme gasped, shocked at his callousness.

He inclined his head and continued as though she had not spoken. "She had a natural talent that many of the others in her family did not possess. And she had quite a bit of spunk too. It was easy to see why Potter loved her."

Esme took a step back, bumping into the table behind her. Reaching back, she gripped the edge tightly. She looked back up at her father, her face still pale and her eyes wide. Biting the inside of her cheek, she struggled to control her emotions as she had been taught. Finally, she opened her mouth and her voice came out clear and strong. She had learned from the best, after all.

"Do you suppose, had things been different, that they would have made a life together?"

Snape sneered. "I suppose if you believe in true love and all that nonsense, then yes, they would have. But life does not always give us what we want." Snape looked at her under his lashes. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for the other plan after all. Just a few more words and he would be able to end this nightmare.

"Albus believes that is why he pushed Granger and Weasley away. They were constant reminders of what he lost."

Snape stirred the potion still brewing in front of him, restraining himself from forcing the conversation. Let her think about his words.

Esme looked up, her eyes hard. "And you think that if I continue my friendship with Harry that I too will die?"

"There are worse things than death, Esme." He stepped back from the cauldron. "My fear is not that you would necessarily die, but that you would care for someone who could not love you the way you deserve. Once you find the love of your life, no one will ever be able to take their place. Trust me on this one. I know from firsthand experience."

"And Miss Weasley was the love of Harry's life?" she asked softly, a note of resignation in her voice.

Snape nodded. "From all indications, I would say 'yes'."

'Forgive me, Serena," he thought, 'for implying that Potter could ever hope to have a relationship like ours.'

Severus felt his eyes watering and rubbed them harshly, silently cursing the burning steam. He should have known better than to stand so close.

Feeling a sudden desire to end the conversation, he turned away. "Just promise me that you will think about what I said."

"I promise." The soft words hung in the air and Severus felt victorious. He just wished he understood why it felt so hollow.

* * *

Harry sat at the head table, watching the chattering students filling the Great Hall and catching up with friends they had not seen all summer. He remembered with an ache how he had always loved those first few days back after summer vacation, putting the memories of the Dursleys behind him and feeling the love and acceptance of his friends. His eyes swept over the other staff members who were taking their places at the table. The Sorting Ceremony was set to begin shortly and he was anxious to get things rolling. His gaze settled on the quiet, pale woman at the end of the table. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Esme turned, caught his look, and quickly dropped her eyes to the table. The last few weeks he could have sworn that she was deliberately avoiding him, but he couldn't figure out why. After all her help, he assumed that they would continue to spend time together and get to know each other better, but it seemed like she had different ideas. Well, maybe it was for the best. He wasn't sure he could handle getting close to anyone else. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise, his gaze shifted to the man sitting at Esme's left. Snape was staring at him, his eyes hard and a small smirk playing around his mouth. Harry nodded at Severus. His smirk only deepened and he turned to Esme, saying something that brought a tight smile to her face, before she turned her attention to Dumbledore who was now standing before the assembled students.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts. I am so pleased to see everyone back safe and sound and ready to commence another year. Please find your seats and we will begin the Sorting Ceremony."

The students quickly found their seats and looked toward the doors waiting for the first years to be brought into the room to discover what their future held at Hogwarts. Harry wondered a bit bitterly if the students waiting nervously outside realized how they were willingly participating in Dumbledore's biased segregation. If the last few years had taught him anything, it was that House pride and affiliation meant nothing and that it only managed to instill baseless feelings of superiority and hatred. Many of the best agents in the Ministry had been members of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and even a few Hufflepuffs, which Harry had quickly learned after putting aside years of pent-up hostility. Why the Headmaster continued the mockery was a mystery.

The doors opened and the first years marched in, their eyes widening as they took in the large cavernous room full of smiling classmates and professors. Well, mostly smiling. Harry looked down the table at Snape, who was glaring at the incoming students. Hiding a small smile, he was strangely thankful that some things never changed.

Dumbledore smiled down at the upturned faces and held out his arms. "Welcome to Hogwarts. This will be your home for the next seven years, and we want you to feel comfortable here. In a moment, Professor McGonagall will call your name and you will come up and be sorted into your respective houses. However, I ask you to remember that no matter what house you are in, we all belong to the same family. And not unlike family members, weoften have differing opinions and beliefs. But at the end of the day we care about and take care of each other." Dumbledore turned slightly and caught Harry's eye, winking at him. Harry's gaze hardened and his lips flattened. 'Keep your pretty words to yourself, old man. It is too late,' he thought.

Dumbledore's smile faltered and he turned, nodding at Minerva to begin the ceremony.

Professor McGonagall swept up and unfolded a scroll. Adjusting her glasses, she began to read the list of names in front of her. Harry watched as one by one, students sat on the stool, waiting for the Sorting Hat to determine which House they belonged to. Drumming his fingers on the table, he thought back to his own sorting. The Hat had debated whether or not to place him in Slytherin or Gryffindor. How accurate could this be if students could fit into more than one house? Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his bitterness aside. Sliding his gaze to the Headmaster, he was surprised to find him looking back. Harry thought he detected a hurt expression, before the patronizing smile returned. Feeling a momentary pang of guilt, he turned away and half listened to the rest of the sorting, counting the moments until he was free to return to his chambers.

* * *

Harry saw Esme walking down the hallway and he sprinted to catch up with her.

"Esme, wait up," he called. Her steps slowed and she turned toward Harry, a neutral expression covering her face.

"How are you doing, Professor Potter?" she asked. "Are you ready for the term?"

Harry's brow furrowed at her formal tone. "Well, I had better be ready for the term, seeing as it has begun. And I thought we had decided that you were going to call me Harry."

Esme lowered her eyes to the stone floor. "There are students around and it would be improper of me to be so familiar."

Harry laughed. "Familiar? I hardly think that calling me by my first name is grounds for familiarity. Besides, I thought we were friends."

She looked at him seriously. "I don't believe that we know each other well enough to be friends. And there are those who consider being friends with you a dangerous endeavor."

Harry stopped smiling. "This is about your father isn't it? That's why you've been avoiding me for the last few weeks." He paused and added softly, "He doesn't want us to spend time together."

She looked uncomfortable, her silence only confirming his suspicions.

"And here I thought the greasy bastard may have changed for the better," he muttered.

Her gaze hardened "That is my father you are talking about and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making slanderous claims about him."

Harry's eyes blazed with anger. "Then tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that he did not convince you that spending time with me would be detrimental to your well-being. Do you allow him to make all your decisions for you? Or just ones about who you spend time with?"

Esme straightened, lifting her chin. "I make my own decisions," she ground out.

Harry took a step toward her. "Then prove it. Have tea with me this evening after dinner."

Her heart started pounding in her ears. Sliding her eyes to the right, she looked down the empty hallway, searching for any trace of her father or brother. Looking back up at Harry, she took a deep breath, feeling slightly dizzy at his nearness. When had he gotten so close?

"Fine," she answered breathlessly. "When and where?"

A corner of Harry's mouth lifted. "My chambers. 8:00 P.M. See you then." He stepped around her and started walking down the hallway, feeling curiously excited about this turn of events.

Esme lifted a hand to rub her forehead, a vast array of conflicting emotions running through her. On one hand, she had missed talking with Harry, on the other hand…"My father is going to kill me," she whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: There is some discussion about Serena's death at the end of the chapter that may be a little disturbing. I will remind you of the recent rating change from K+ to T. Just fair warning. Also, this story is taking some interesting turns for me, so let me know what you think.**

Harry placed the tea set on the table and wiped his hands together. Pursing his lips, he eyed the table taking in the tea set and biscuits that he had asked one of the house elves to prepare. Everything seemed to be in order. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, he sighed. 7:30. This may be the first that he was actually early for something. Normally, he could barely make it anywhere on time. Picking up the book he had been reading, he settled into one of the chairs and opened it. He had not read more than a page, when he saw the fire blaze green and heard a familiar voice call his name. Dropping the book on the floor, he leaned forward.

"Harry? Are you there?" A floating head looked around the room before its gaze landed on Harry. "Ah, there you are."

"Anthony! It is so good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?" Harry grinned widely. Anthony Richards had been his partner on several missions back at the Ministry. He had appreciated the man's ability to overlook his 'famous persona' and treat him as one of the guys. Harry might even go as far to say that they had become friends over the last few years.

Anthony shook his head apologetically. "I wish I could say that it was a friendly call, but I'm afraid that it is strictly business."

Harry sobered up. It must be serious for Anthony to contact him via the Floo network. The Floo wasn't necessarily known for its security.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Not here. I need you to meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow after classes." Anthony looked behind him. "I don't trust discussing this over the Floo."

"Not a problem. My classes end about 4:30, so I could meet you at 5:00, if that's all right."

Anthony smiled. "Sounds good, Harry. I shall see you then." Anthony disappeared and Harry sat back contemplating what Anthony would have to discuss with him. He knew that the man had been assigned the Snape case and he thought that it was definitely strange that no arrests had been made. It had been over two months since the abduction and murder and it didn't appear as if the Ministry had any leads. A discontented feeling gnawed at the back of Harry's mind, but he couldn't quite figure out what was bothering him.

A knock sounded onthe door, pulling Harry from his reverie.He pushed the conversation from his mind, knowing that he would find out soon enough. Opening the door, he smiled at Esme who was nervously looking around the empty corridor. 'Oh, no,' he though peevishly, 'she doesn't allow her father to dictate anything at all.'

"Good evening, Esme. How are you?"

"Well, since it's only been a few hours since the last time I saw you, I am doing well."

Harry resisted the urge to grin at her acerbic response. Standing back, he gestured for her to enter. He watched as she stepped into the room, heading straight for the chairs near the fireplace. Her whole countenance seemed to suggest that she couldn't wait to get this over with. Closing the door, he sighed and sat down in the chair opposite her. He settled back and watched as she glanced around the room, never making eye contact.

Leaning forward, he pulled the tea tray toward him and carefully poured two cups of tea. "Cream or sugar?" he asked, gazing up at her.

"Both please," she replied, meeting his gaze for the first time since sitting down. Harry complied, stirring her tea and handing her the cup. She took the saucer, the cup rattling slightly as her hand shook.

"Sorry," she said as she got the cup and saucer under control.

"No problem," he replied, sitting back and taking a sip.

"So," they both said at the same moment when the silence had become overwhelming. Esme smiled shyly at him and Harry laughed.

"Ladies first," Harry said teasingly.

Esme tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and set the saucer down on the table. "I was just going to ask if you were nervous about tomorrow."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Actually, petrified would be a better word to describe what I am feeling."

"R-Really?" she stuttered. "I would have thought that teaching would be nothing compared to all that you have faced as an Auror."

"On the contrary, I knew how to handle the things I faced in my time at the Ministry. You learn a few spells, know what the creatures are capable of, and it usually worked out well in the end. Students on the other hand, cannot be simply reduced to a standard dossier. Each one is different. Plus, I imagine that all the hormones make for some rather interesting encounters."

Esme laughed lightly, shaking her head. "That is probably true." She reached for her tea cup and took a sip. Harry took the opportunity to study her. The nervousness and stiffness seemed to have left and it was replaced with the warm camaraderie that they had begun to build before her father's interference.

"What about you? Are you ready to change the world one student at a time?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I am terrified. The thought of standing before a group of students who last year were my peers is nauseating. I don't think I will be able to sleep at all tonight. How in the world am I going to maintain any sort of discipline with students who are only a little younger than I am?" She smiled musingly. "Although, my name may help me there a little."

Harry nodded seriously. "So you are going to let them call you Mesmordia? That is a good plan."

Esme looked shocked for a moment, but then dissolved into laughter. "No, you idiot. I was thinking of my surname. But, do you think that would work?"

Harry smiled, thinking that it was very bizarre that he was pleased to be called an idiot. "Sadly, I think your surname has a better shot. Though, you may be able to work the rampant teenage hormones to your benefit."

She gazed at him sideways in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Come now, Esme. I am sure that you have a mirror. You are a very attractive woman, and the boys will be tripping over themselves to help you in any way they can."

She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "I think you are giving me way too much credit, Harry."

Esme raised the cup and finished drinking her tea. Placing her cup on the saucer, she sat back and smirked at him. Harry felt a sinking sensation at what was coming next.

"Besides, I am not the famous one here. If anyone stands a chance at manipulating teenage hormones, it would be you." She clasped her hands to her heart and batted her eyes at him. "Oh, Professor Potter, you are my knight in shining armor. Your pictures in the _Daily Prophet_ did not do you justice," she said in a high pitched giggle. She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Oh, they will definitely be fawning all over you," she said, narrowing her eyes at his continued silence.

Harry looked down into the bottom of his cup, catching sight of the grounds. He briefly wondered if he should consult Trelawney about what they meant. Setting his cup down, he realized how pointless that would be. He already knew what she would say.

"Fame is not something I asked for, or something I even want," he replied quietly.

"Harry," she said reprovingly, "I never implied that you did, but you are stuck with it nonetheless. We cannot change the cards that fate deals us. We must simply learn to accept them and not allow bitterness to run our lives," she said, leaning forward, a strange intensity in her eyes.

"I never thought that I would see the day when a Snape would lecture me about fate," he said cynically.

"I did not choose my name any more than you chose yours, and I am certainly not my father," she said, a small smile gracing her face.

Harry gazed at her. "No, you are definitely not your father," he agreed.

The clock on the mantel chimed, causing Esme to jump slightly and look sadly at the clock. Turning back, she said, "It seems as if it is time for me to go." She stood and walked toward the door. Pausing, she said softly, "This was very nice, Harry. Thank you for inviting me."

Harry scrambled out of his seat and hurried to the door before she could disappear. "It was very nice, and I would be honored if you would consider returning tomorrow night. Say around the same time?"

Esme tilted her head and eyed him. Harry got the strange feeling that she was trying to figure out his intentions. Maybe if she figured them out, she could let him know. Swallowing the lump that was forming, he added, "Perhaps you could tell me how that name thing worked out."

She grinned and nodded once. "I will see you tomorrow. Good luck with your classes," she said as she opened the door and swept out of the room.

"You too," he said to the air.

* * *

Harry slumped into a seat in the Three Broomsticks feeling exhausted. Running a hand over his face, he looked around the room searching for Anthony. Not seeing him, he raised a hand to catch the attention of the lone waitress in the pub. 

She strolled over, her hair sticking up in pointy spikes, her eyes lined with layers of black kohl. "What can I do you for, luv?" she asked, slightly bored.

Harry contemplated ordering something a little stronger than tea. After the day he'd had, no one would have blamed him. Shuddering slightly, he remembered the bored faces, whispering voices, and Merlin help him, the fist fight that had developed during his Slytherin-Hufflepuff class. Since when had the Hufflepuffs become so aggressive? And how in the world did the other professors stand it? Many more days like this and ordering spirits would not be a cause for contemplation.

"Sir?" the waitress questioned, her eyes flying to Harry's forehead. Her mouth dropped open and she started to say something.

Harry quickly held up his hand and said, "A pot of tea, please. And two cups. I am expecting company."

The waitress' mouth shut with a snap and she gave Harry a flirty smile. "Coming right up, sir."

The waitress disappeared and a voice came from behind him. "Still a charmer with the ladies I see."

Harry grinned and stood up, clasping the man's hand in his. "Anthony! How are you?"

"Tolerable," Anthony replied with small smile.

He let go of Harry's hand and sat down. Harry studied his friend, noticing that the last few months had not been kind to him. His blond hair had grown and was sticking up in tufts all over his head, as though he rolled straight out of bed and went to work. Also, he seemed to have lost a great deal of weight. Harry stared in concern at the shadows under his eyes and the prominent cheekbones. The skin was fairly stretched across his face. However, the haunted expression in his eyes was more troublesome.

"How is Alice?" Harry asked softly.

A wry smile settled on Anthony's lips. "She is fine. Always asking me when you are coming to dinner again. Women, huh?"

The waitress chose that moment to bring the tea to the men, setting it on the table and looking at Harry, an adoring expression on her face.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Potter?" she asked, giggling. Her mouth formed an o. "Oh, I apologize. I mean, Professor Potter." She smiled suggestively at Harry.

"No, thank you," Harry replied evenly, waiting for the woman to leave. Once she had, he rolled his eyes at Anthony and proceeded to serve the tea.

"Like I said, still the charmer," Anthony laughed.

Harry smirked and sipped his tea, catching up with Anthony about Alice and the girls. Once the small talk was out of the way, he leaned forward and said quietly, "So what is so important that you would come to see me?"

Anthony's eyes swept side to side, taking in all the customers in the Three Broomsticks. Swiping his wand, he muttered an incantation and looked knowingly at Harry. "Can't be too careful, right Har? I think you taught me that one."

Anthony was acting very nervous, almost jumpy. His calm and rational decisions in the field were what had distinguished him from countless other Aurors. Something was not right. He waited for Anthony to continue.

"Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban."

A stunned expression crossed Harry's face. "What? When?"

"At the end of May," Anthony said quietly, toying with the handle of his tea cup.

"Why haven't there been any reports about his escape and disappearance?" Harry's eyes narrowed, "Wait, I was still working at the Ministry at the time. Why wasn't I told?"

Anthony looked briefly at Harry under his eyelashes. "Under the circumstances, it was thought best not to inform you."

Harry sat back angrily. "And just who determined that it was for the best? That was something that I should have been told." Running a hand through his hair, he continued softly, "If anyone should have known, it was me."

"I know Harry. When I found out, I wanted to let you know immediately, but I was forbidden from telling you."

Harry looked up. "When did you find out?"

"The beginning of July." Anthony set the tea cup aside and gave Harry a hard look.

"The beginning of July," Harry repeated softly, before looking up in shock. "When Serena Snape was…"

"Murdered," Anthony finished.

"Do you suspect that Malfoy had anything to do with it?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer, but waiting to hear it from his friend.

Anthony hedged. "We have no conclusive evidence, but we have enough to consider him the prime suspect."

"Why have there been no bulletins? People need to know that there is a dangerous madman out on the loose."

Anthony laid a hand on Harry's forearm, attempting to calm him down. "We are trying to maintain the peace. If people knew that Malfoy was out of prison, there would be an uproar and the Minister does not want to answer questions about how he escaped."

"You mean, he doesn't want to be forced from office." Harry looked disgusted. "That man is complete moron. You and I both know that, Anthony."

Anthony sighed. "That may be true, but at this moment I tend to agree with his decision." Anthony held up his hand as Harry opened his mouth to retort. "We have no idea how Malfoy escaped, no idea who is helping him, and absolutely no clue as to where he is. If we told that to the public, we would have a widespread panic. Not that I would blame them."

Harry considered this and grudgingly admitted that perhaps it was the best course of action.

"The family should be told though, Anthony. They have that right. And if the Minister doesn't want to tell the family, then he should at least inform Dumbledore, to set up some protection at Hogwarts."

Anthony looked away.

Harry felt sick as the realization hit him. "That bastard already knows doesn't he? How long has he known?" he asked, his teeth clenched tightly.

Anthony just looked at him, a resigned look on his face.

Banging his fist on the table, Harry repeated, "How long has he known?"

"He was the first person that the Minister informed after Malfoy's escape."

Harry couldn't breathe. "He's known since May? And he never told anyone? Did he never consider that after all of Malfoy's threats, Snape and his family may be a target?" Harry dropped his face into his hands, overwhelmed by this revelation.

Lookig back up at Anthony in suspicion, he asked, "Why are you telling me this now?"

Anthony shifted in his seat. "There was information about Serena's death that was not released to the public. Before she died, it appeared as though she were tortured in some ritualistic manner. There were some..." he paused, his face turning white, "there were somewords carved into the body."

"Words? What sort of words?"

Anthony's gaze shifted to the window, though with the layer of dirt he was unable to see outside. Clearing his throat, he said softly, "Traitor, betrayer, and other less kind words. Considering her condition, it was absolutely horrific."

Harry sat back, confusion etched on his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

Anthony sighed. "She was pregnant. Only about three months along, not enough to be showing, but enough to be aware."

"Pregnant? Did her family know?" Harry felt a little lightheaded.

Anthony pursed his lips. "I don't believe that her family was informed, although we did share the information with Headmaster Dumbledore. He assured us that he would handle letting the family know." His mouth twisted wryly, "I assume that he didn't, huh?"

Harry seethed. Once again, Dumbledore was pulling the strings of the people he claimed to care about.

"No, he didn't," Harry suddenly felt drained. "Thank you for letting me know all this, Anthony. At least now I am aware of who and whatis out there." He stood to leave, unsure if he could make it back to Hogwarts without losing the contents of his stomach.

Anthony grabbed his hand to stop him. "That's not the reason I told you this, Harry."

Harry pulled his hand away and looked at him a feeling of dread filling him. "Then why?"

"Because recent intel has seemed to indicate that Malfoy is not done with the Snape family."

**A/N: As always, please read and review. Even if you hate it, I would appreciate being told. **


	11. Chapter 11

Severus sat down at the head table and surreptitiously glanced at Esme out of the corner of his eye. She had her head propped up on one hand and was pushing her food around her plate with a fork. Picking up his napkin, he unrolled it and laid it on his lap.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "I had to see that a certain group of students remembered the proper procedure for cleaning up their stations."

Esme smiled and stabbed a green bean on her plate. "No one could ever hope to clean up their station to your expectations."

Severus looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's not true. I seem to remember yours always being spotless."

She sat up and gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, because there would have been hell to pay if it hadn't been." She laid down her fork and imitated her father, "Esme, as my daughter, I expect a certain level of preparedness and ability. I shall expect more of you than other student, so don't let me down."

Severus laughed uncomfortably at her spot-on impersonation, feeling slightly remorseful. Perhaps he had been a little too hard on her. "Well, look where it got you," he said, eying the meal in front of him. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry and he was unsure that he could stomach the rich looking meal. "How did your first day go?" he asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation.

Taking a bite of the roast beef, she chewed slowly and considered his question. Swallowing, she shrugged. "It went as well as can be expected I suppose. Does it ever get any easier?"

"The first days are always a bit rough. The students are not quite used to being back in the classroom. You may have to be rather tough the first few weeks. An old professor once told me that you should never smile at the students until after winter break."

Esme choked on the forkful of green beans that she had been chewing. Her eyes began to water and her father slapped her on the back, attempting to dislodge the obstruction. Handing her a glass of water, Severus watched in concern as she took a drink, breathing heavily after she lowered the glass. Smiling gratefully at him, she placed the glass on the table and started laughing.

"What is so funny?" Snape asked a bit stiffly. He hated to be left out of a joke, unsure if it was ever about him.

Holding up a hand, Esme continued laughing, wiping away a few tears that may have been due to the laughter or the previous choking experience.

"Don't you think you are taking his advice a little too seriously, Dad?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Who's advice? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your professor: the one who said not to smile until after winter break. He did mean that you were to eventually smile at the students at some point during the term," she said teasingly.

"Very funny," he muttered, turning his attention back to his plate. "That's the last time I offer you any advice."

"I'm sorry. It was just a joke." She placed her hand over his and gave him a small, apologetic smile.

Turning his hand over, he clasped hers tightly. Looking up into her eyes, he said softly, "No, I am sorry. I tend to take things too personally. Don't let your prickly old father push you away, alright?"

Esme felt her chest constrict, her eyes tearing up. "I won't, I promise."

Severus looked pointedly at her plate and released her hand. "You should eat before your dinner gets cold. You need to keep up your strength."

She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Yes, father," she said cheekily.

"Why don't you come by tonight after dinner? I think we are due for a chess rematch and I know Sidney would enjoy having us all in the same room again."

Esme froze. Her mind raced trying to figure out how to slip out of this without revealing the truth. "I would love that, Dad. I really would, but unfortunately, I already have plans."

His eyes narrowed, studying her. "Oh, really? With anyone we know?" he asked casually.

"I was going to help Poppy restock the storeroom with the potions we finished up. She's been really busy and has been unable to unpack the crates," Esme babbled as she felt a blush spread up her cheeks. 'God, Es,' she berated herself, 'at least try to tell a convincing lie.'

"With Potter back in the vicinity, I am sure that she has been too busy. I think that boy spent more time in the infirmary than anywhere else," Snape sneered, taking a bite of potatoes, grimacing as the slightly congealed gravy slid over his tongue. With a sigh, he laid down his fork and sat back. His eyes shifted to the end of the table, noticing the empty seat for the first time. Looking around the Great Hall, he wondered where the infuriating new professor was.

"Speaking of Potter, he seems to be missing from this evening's festivities. Perhaps he felt too good to eat dinner with the masses," Severus said condescendingly.

"Harry's not like that," Esme said quietly, wishing she had kept her mouth shut when she saw her father's eyes blaze.

"And exactly how would you know what Potter is like?" he asked, his voice low, a dangerous edge to it. "I thought that we agreed that you were going to stay away from him."

Esme took the napkin off her lap and laid it on her plate. "I don't know him. He just doesn't seem like the type to believe the hype that surrounds him."

"He certainly has you snowed, Esme. Don't fall for the humble act. It has been perfected over the years," he said quietly, the horror he felt reflected in his dark eyes.

She stood and looked down at him. "Thank you for the interesting discussion, but I must take my leave." She pushed her chair in and stopped, as though remembering something. "I will come by tomorrow night and we can have that chess rematch you mentioned earlier."

Snape watched as she walked slowly away, concerned at her desire to defend Harry. It appeared as though his earlier warning had not been heeded. Throwing his own napkin down on the table, he scooted his chair back and made his way to the dungeons. He would have to keep a closer eye on Esme and her interactions with Potter.

* * *

Harry entered his chambers, still reeling from his discussion with Anthony. Glancing at the clock, he realized that he had missed dinner. Feeling his stomach roll, he decided that was probably not such a bad thing. He knew there was no way he would be able to keep down anything he ate. Dropping his cloak on the floor, he walked over to his bookcase, moving aside a stack of books to reveal a crystal decanter. Pulling it off the shelf, he poured himself a glass, noticing that his hand was shaking slightly. 

Taking a large gulp, he leaned against the bookcase, sliding to the floor as his legs finally gave out.

"Malfoy," he spit. He pulled his legs up, leaning one elbow on his knee, and covering his mouth with his hand. How could hearing one name, bring up so many forgotten memories and emotions? His mind flashed back to the last time he had seen Lucius Malfoy.

"_Mr. Potter do you think this is wise?" the guard at the door asked him, gazing at him in sympathy. "Lucius Malfoy is a cold-blooded killer."_

_Harry swallowed. 'I know that better than anyone else,' he thought. Looking the guard in the eye he said confidently, "I know what I am doing. Just let me in."_

_The guard shook his head and placed his hand over the key pad and said a few words. The glass door swooshed as it lifted, a cold air sweeping over Harry. He shivered involuntarily._

"_Malfoy is behind a reinforced glass window. He cannot possibly get come through it, no matter what he says. His magic has been bound. You have ten minutes and then I will come in and get you. Understood?" the guard said authoritatively._

_Harry nodded and stepped in the hallway, glancing behind as the door slammed shut. Gathering his strength, he walked down the hallway toward the light shining at the end. He only had ten minutes and he had a lot to say._

_Facing the window, he surveyed the room. Lucius Malfoy was lying on a cot reading a book that was resting on stomach. Lucius' looked up and a sly smile swept up his face. Swinging his legs over the edge, he closed the book, laying it on the cot and standing up._

"_Well, well, well. If it isn't the savior of the Wizarding World come to visit a lowly Death Eater." He stepped closer the window, his cold gray eyes narrowing. "To what to do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Not to say that I'm not flattered, but you'll have to forgive me." His lifted his hands. "I have nothing to offer you."_

_Harry's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Why couldn't he say anything? He was face to face with the man who had taken everything from him, and he was unable to open his damned mouth to say what he had been planning for days. _

_Lucius smiled evilly, looking behind Harry. "Where's the little redhead that's always glued to your side? I know she's a Weasley. What on earth is her name?" He spun his hand in the air, pretending to think. Snapping his fingers as though suddenly remembering, he stared at Harry. "Ginny. That was her name. I wish you would have brought her. She certainly knew how to 'dance'."_

_Harry slammed his hand against the glass, his rage overflowing at the mention of Ginny suffering at Lucius' hand. The lights began to flicker and Lucius' cot slid away from the wall, turning over completely dumping its contents onto the damp floor. _

_Lucius glanced at the cot, his gaze sliding back to Harry, giving him an appraising look. "That was an impressive display, Mr. Potter. But even first years know how to control their magic."_

_Harry seethed. "Go to hell, Malfoy. You have no right to talk about her. If it weren't for you, she would…" he stopped suddenly, feeling nauseous._

_Lucius' eyes hardened. "Temper, Mr. Potter, temper. Didn't you ever wonder why she was there? Why didn't she stick to the plan? The plan you had made to keep her safe." _

_Harry's head whipped up in surprise. 'How the hell did he know that?' he thought wildly._

_Lucius smiled smoothly as though reading his mind. "I know more than you might even imagine." He stepped closer to the glass, putting his mouth against the glass partition, his breath forming a fog on the glass. "Who sent her to find you? Who put her life in danger? The answer may be rather surprising." Lucius stepped back from the glass and looked at the cot on the floor. Glancing back at Harry, he said softly, "Not everything is as it seems, Mr. Potter. Not everyone is what they say." _

Harry jumped as his trip down memory lane was interrupted by an insistent knock. His eyes flew to the mantel. "Dammit," he muttered. Looking down at his glass, he wondered briefly when he had finished the last of the liquid. He pushed himself up, stalked over to the door, and he opened it.

"Hello," Esme said cheerfully. Her smile slowly dissipated as she took in his white face, her gaze sliding down to the empty tumbler in his hand.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the empty glass. Harry watched a myriad of emotions flicker across her face. "Maybe I should come back later, when you're not… busy." She turned to leave, but Harry reached out and grabbed her arm.

"No, please stay. I was just having a drink to calm my nerves. I've had quite a day," he said with sheepish smile.

"I did hear about the fist fight," she said sympathetically. "That must have been the highlight of your day."

"Well, it certainly wasn't the low point," he muttered, his mind drawn back to Anthony's revelations.

Esme looked at him questioningly. "If that wasn't the low point, what was?"

"I am being a terrible host. Please come in and have a seat. The tea should be arriving shortly and you can tell me about your day," Harry said quickly, sidestepping the dangerous question.

Esme entered slowly, taking her seat from the previous evening. Harry walked over and put the tumbler back on the bookcase, his hand resting there for a moment as he wondered if he would be able to fake small talk tonight. Turning around, he gave her a bright smile and sat down. The smile was not returned as she studied his face, her green eyes squinting as though she knew there was something that he wasn't telling her. He idly wondered if he should be concerned with her reading his thoughts.

After a few moments of her scrutiny, he squirmed uncomfortably and asked, "Did your day go better than mine?"

She sat back, a contemplative look on her face, and answered, "I think every professor had a better day than you. Not many start their careers with a physical altercation breaking out in the middle of class. Although I have to admit that you have no where to go but up." She smiled at him and Harry was relieved that the tense situation seemed to have passed.

"That is true," he admitted ruefully. "Did the name thing work out?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Well, it did until they saw me. I think just hearing that you have 'Professor Snape' is a terrifying prospect, until you actually see that it's just his pushover daughter and not the man himself."

"I don't think you are a pushover. Your mother certainly wasn't, and you seem to be a lot like her." Harry bit the inside of his cheek, wondering why he had felt the need to bring up her mother.

Esme winced and looked into the fire that Harry couldn't remember starting. Looking down at the table, he saw the tea set that he had somehow missed before. Thank goodness for the excellent memories of house elves. Silently pouring two cups, he handed one to her and watched as she stared into the liquid, almost as though she expected to find the answer to some question lurking in the murky depths of the tea. Sighing, she set the saucer down, pulling her legs up under her. He suddenly realized how young and lost she looked.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about my mother," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. "Sometimes I just forget that she isn't down in the dungeons with my father or up in her classroom reading some new book she just found." She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to dispel the tears. Her father would be absolutely horrified to know that she was crying. And worse she was crying in front of Harry Potter. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize. The loss is still fresh." Harry watched as she bit the edge of her thumbnail, struck by her vulnerable expression. "I've found that talking about it often helps," he added softly.

She dropped her hand and smirked. "That may be easier said than done. I can't talk to my father. He refuses to even say her name, and Sidney, ever since that day, will only talk to her headstone. The other staff members are always gives me these pitying looks, like they expect me at any moment to break down." She placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and propped her head on her hand.

"You can always talk to me," he said.

She stared at him for several moments, before lifting her head and shaking it. "I can't do that, Harry."

He shrugged. "Why not? I'm not too close to the situation and I certainly know what you are going through." His mind focused on Malfoy for a moment and he added silently, 'More than you could possibly know'.

"But talking about something like this is rather personal. And I don't do personal very well," she said wryly.

Harry smiled encouragingly. "No, I don't suppose you do. However, as your _friend_," he emphasized the word for her benefit, prompting a small smile to flitter across her face, "I am open to simply being here to listen to whatever you choose to tell me."

"I don't know…" she said hesitantly. Harry leaned forward and set his saucer down on the table, leaning his elbow on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

"Why don't you tell me something about your mother?" he suggested.

Esme glanced off into the fire again, her mind searching for a memory. Smiling slightly, she said, "Shortly after Sidney was born, I was feeling a little put out. I had been the only child for several years and my parents' world. But after Sidney's birth, my father was pleased to have a son to carry on the Snape name and my mother was busy with," she looked at him and smiled, "well, with simply being a mother. As a child, I often would run off the Hagrid's hut to feel important to one person."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Hagrid is really good about that. He always made me feel special."

"Yes he did that well," she said softly. Gazing into the fire, she continued. "One day, feeling particularly ignored, I decided, like all children do at some point or another in their lives, to run away. So, I packed up a suitcase and told my parents that I was going to Hagrid's. Instead, I headed for the Forbidden Forest." At Harry's horrified look, she added, "I know, I know, not the wisest decision ever made, but I was a child after all. And I thought that all the time I had spent with Hagrid, I could 'live off the land' so to speak."

She smiled off into the distance and continued, "Anyway, I entered the forest and started walking looking for the best place to live. I kept walking and walking. It was growing darker." She shivered. "I can still remember the sounds in there."

"You don't forget things like that," Harry said quietly.

"No, you don't. I finally was so tired that I sat down and just started crying. That was when I heard my mother shouting my name." She gazed at him in amusement. "My _whole_ name," she emphasized.

"Ouch," Harry said. He always felt a spark of worry when he heard Molly Weasley say his whole name.

"Thankfully my mother found me, and scolded me, rightfully so, for wandering off into the forest." Her eyes were shining with tears and she sniffled. "I will never forget what she said to me afterwards." She wiped her cheeks and swallowed.

"What did she say?" Harry asked after a few moments, wanting to hear what a mother would have to say after something like that.

"She sat down and pulled me onto her lap and held me so close that I could feel her heart racing. She told me that it didn't matter how many children she and my father had, her love for me would never change. That one day I would understand when I had children," she smiled uneasily. "That was a poor paraphrase of what she actually said, but you get the idea."

He nodded respectfully. "I think I understand." His brow furrowed. "Did you parents want more children?" he asked, uncomfortably drawn back to the last bit of conversation he'd had with Anthony.

Esme wiped her cheeks and looked at him questioningly. "The last few years, my mother talked about having another child. I think she was beginning to feel a little lost with Sidney and me growing up. My father was a little resistant to the idea and Sidney was downright hostile." She laughed lightly. "Although, I think that has more to do with the idea that he wouldn't be the baby any longer."

"What about you?" he asked. "What did you think?"

"To be honest, thinking about my parents conceiving another child was enough to turn me off the conversation completely," she said with a grin.

Harry grimaced at the thought of Snape and his wife…he shook his head to clear the disturbing image and smiled. "I can see your point."

The clock chimed and Esme sighed. "Well, time has slipped away once again." They both stood and Harry walked her to the door.

"Thank you for listening to me, Harry. It was very…," she looked into the air searching for the word, "cathartic."

"Whenever you feel like talking, my door is always open," he said. "I'm afraid that I need to see someone tomorrow, but perhaps we could arrange to meet the next evening."

She nodded. "That is fine; I already promised my father that I would visit with him and Sidney tomorrow night anyway."

"Good night," she said as she stepped out the door. He echoed the farewell, closing the door behind him. Making his way toward his bedroom, he knew that tomorrow night would definitely not be as pleasant. But then, visiting Dumbledore never was particularly pleasant.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First of all, I owe you all an apology for how long this has taken to update. Things have been rather difficult lately and writing has been the last thing on my mind. Also, I had the Dumbledore section written a few weeks ago and then I set it aside thinking I was going to rewrite it because it was rather rough. But after another review, I decided that I liked it and kept it, only adding the section at the beginning. Whether or not _you_ like it remains to be seen-lol. As always, please read and review!**

* * *

The cool, wet Scottish weather seemed to be a reflection of Harry's mood. He stood near the window transfixed by the rain beating against the window, rolling in rivulets down the pane and puddling on the ledge beneath the window. Rainy days always reminded him of Ginny.

_Harry watched as Ginny bounded into the room, jumping on the plush couch. She pressed the front of her body against the back of the couch, her feet dangling off the edge and her hands resting on the back of the couch. She squealed when she saw the ominous rain clouds in the distance. Looking over her shoulder at Harry, her eyes sparkled and she gave him a lopsided grin. "Don't you just love rainy days? I wish everyday could be wet and cool."_

"_They wouldn't be on the top of my preferred list of weather," he said as he kneeled on the couch beside her, his arms resting on the back of the couch. "It's too hard to play Quidditch in the rain," he said off-handedly._

_Ginny rolled her eyes and snorted. She laid her chin down on her folded arms, her eyes tracking the incoming clouds that were drawing nearer to the castle. "The rain makes everything new and cleanses the darkness from the world, don't you think? It gives me hope for the future."_

He placed his palm flat against the pane, the coolness drawing him back to present. They had never discussed the future. Their youth had made them complacent. The future had been expected, even taken for granted. Why talk about it, when you would be there to experience it; to live it? Often on rainy days, he would find himself wondering what she had wanted their future to look like, and what it would be like to have those dreams to hold onto. Perhaps it would have made losing her a little easier, because he would have known his place in her life. It would have been something for him to draw comfort from.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in black dart across the grounds, a heavy cloak draped around the speeding person. The mysterious figure stopped at the gate of the cemetery, a hand raised to push open the gate. Harry's eyes narrowed, watching as the figure seemed to hesitate, the hand dropping to the side of its owner before pulling the cloak tighter around the slight body. The figure straightened and pushed open the gate, entering the darkened cemetery. Leaning into the window, he was unable to see exactly where the hooded figure went, though he could have sworn he saw a shadow near the far end. Tapping a finger on the glass in thought, he silently listed three people who would venture into the cemetery during the middle of the thunderstorm to visit the area around Serena Snape's eternal resting place.

Sighing, he stepped back from the window, the cloaked figure reminding him that he needed to see Dumbledore. He had put of the inevitable long enough and he was ready to get some answers. He ignored the voice that asked who was getting the answers for and whether he was truly concerned for the Snapes or whether he was simply thrilled to finally catch Dumbledore in a lie.

* * *

Harry stood outside the Headmaster's office trying to remember the blasted password. Gritting his teeth, he counted it to ten, willing himself to calm down, or this conversation would be over before it even began.

"Flying Whizbees," he muttered, exasperated when the door refused to open. "Caramel Clusters, Lemon Drops, Toffee Tongues," he groaned as each one failed to budge the door. Shaking his head, he was about to return to his chambers when the door opened and Albus smiled at him.

"If you wanted in so badly Harry, you could have just knocked," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I suppose that always was a possibility," Harry grudgingly admitted. Although he knew that knocking would have given the Headmaster the edge and Harry needed every advantage he could gather to get through this. Shifting his eyes to look into the office, he said evenly. "I need to speak with you."

Albus stood back and watched as Harry brushed past him, taking note of the stiff posture and angry eyes. He could tell that it was going to be one of 'those' meetings. One in which he ended up defending himself against a multitude of accusations. Sighing, he headed toward his desk. Harry had already taken his seat and was tensely awaiting Dumbledore to do the same.

"I am feeling a desperate need for some tea. Would you care to join me?" Albus asked, clearly expecting a negative response to his invitation, but asking anyway. He may be many things, but he most definitely was not impolite.

Harry shook his head and folded his hands in his lap, his knuckles turning white from the effort not to burst forth with an angry diatribe. Dumbledore waved a hand and cup of tea appeared in front of him. He breathed in the familiar aroma deeply, mentally preparing for the battle he was sure to come, and calmly taking a sip as he waited for Harry to begin.

"I met with a former colleague yesterday from the Ministry," he began softly, "and he had some interesting things to tell me about the Serena Snape case."

Albus set the cup down into the saucer a little harder than he'd intended. Harry's head jerked up at the clatter, narrowing his eyes as he studied Dumbledore's face.

"Did he have anything interesting to report? Although if I remember correctly, you once told me that you couldn't share any of that information with me," Albus was pleased that he was able to sound calm, amidst the tumultuous thoughts that were racing through his mind. He could only begin to imagine what the Ministry official had to say and how Harry had interpreted it.

Harry tilted his head and said coldly, "That was when I worked for the Ministry. I am no longer privy to information that cannot be revealed to the public. Although, it seems while I was there, certain things were withheld even from me."

He looked at the floor, his gaze flickering back up to the Headmaster. "And yes, he had some very interesting things to report." Sitting back, he asked casually, "For instance, were you aware that Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban?"

Albus felt the blood drain from his face. "D-Did he now? That seems like something that we should have been made aware of. Did it happen recently?"

Harry's mouth dropped open at the man's apparent lack of respect for the truth. Closing his mouth, his eyes hardened and he said icily, "You can drop the act, Dumbledore. I am well aware of the whole truth and the part that you played. We both know that Malfoy escaped back in May, a few weeks before Serena was abducted and murdered. Don't you find that just a little coincidental?"

Albus reached forward and shakily picked up the cup he had abandoned moments earlier. Taking a sip, he wondered if there was anything he could ever say that would make Harry believe in him again or if their relationship was irreparably damaged. Hiring Harry had seemed like a perfect way to figure out what had gone wrong in their relationship, but since his arrival, things had only deteriorated. He lifted his head, blinking his eyes and gazing at Harry as he realized that the young man was still speaking.

"Why didn't you tell Snape and his family that Malfoy had escaped?" Harry's eyes burned into Dumbledore. "Did you suddenly forget the threats that Malfoy had made?"

He grimaced. How do you forget a madman's fury or the words that made still made his blood run cold? That had been a difficult day for Severus. He had been called upon to give damning evidence against his one time friend, and Albus had made sure that he had been there to stand by Snape's side and offer what little support he could.

_Lucius' dead eyes glared at the former Death Eater who was now damning him to a life spent in Azkaban with his testimony._

"_You are a traitor, Severus. You have betrayed the Dark Lord and now you are betraying the only friends you have ever had," he hissed. "You think Dumbledore cares about you and that he will protect the pathetic family that you are trying to build? He was simply using you and now that you have outlived your usefulness, he will forget you."_

_Dumbledore moved to step forward and say something, but Severus placed a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head._

_Lucius sneered at Albus, his aristocratic features twisted in enmity. Eyeing the quiet traitor, he said with a calm certainty, "But you will suffer more than anyone else ever has, Severus. I will destroy everything that you hold dear. I will rip each person you care about from your arms and when you are begging me to end your life to join them, I will replay their deaths for you in all their glory, reminding you that their only crime was to love you." _

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the hatred that had been evident in Lucius' eyes. "Those are words that I could never forget Harry, and ones that believe it or not, I took seriously."

Harry took a deep breath. "Then why on earth would you not tell Snape that his family was in danger? He could have prepared them, protected them in some way…"

"Because I thought that I could handle it," Albus interrupted, slamming his hand down on the desk, his own voice rising in protest, the cup and saucer rattling in accord. He could hear the portraits begin to murmur at his sudden loss of control. "I thought that I could spare Severus the pain of reliving a life lived in fear." He looked imploringly at Harry. "I am not perfect, Harry. I never claimed to be. I made a mistake."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "For so long, Severus had lived a double life, never knowing if he would make it home each time he was summoned. I watched him struggle day in and day out with the deception he was forced to live and how the fear of losing his family made him constantly on edge." He smoothed his beard, his eyes downcast. "I thought this time that I could protect him and his family."

"Why is it that every single time you make a mistake, someone ends up dying?" Harry asked heatedly.

Dumbledore glanced at him over the rims of his glasses, his expression troubled. "Are we still talking about Serena, Harry?"

Harry looked away, cursing the man's ability to see through Harry's thoughts and emotions. He stared at the rug on the floor and asked coolly, "Even if I choose to believe your altruistic reasons for not telling Snape about Malfoy's escape, which I don't," he eyed the man indifferently, "what possible reason could you have for not telling Professor Snape about his wife's pregnancy?"

Albus' mouth dropped, feeling like the air had just been knocked out of him. A mocking smile flickered across his face and he shook his head. "It would seem as though you were very well informed," he replied softly.

"That does not answer my question," he said, mentally taking note of Dumbledore's apparent distress.

"Harry, do you really think it would have made things better? Severus, Sidney, and Mesmordia were already mourning for the loss of their mother. Do you really believe that knowing about the child would have made that loss any less difficult to bear? If anything, it would have made it worse."

Harry's anger flared and he stood up, pacing the confines of the office, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. He turned and glared at Dumbledore. "How can you claim to know what is best for everyone all the time? You continue to make decisions for people without giving them any option. And it all comes under this blanket statement that you are simply trying to 'protect them, because you care for them'. But in the end, the people you claim to care about end up hurting more than ever. You are nothing but a manipulative controlling bastard!" Dumbledore flinched under Harry's harsh tone.

Harry stepped toward the desk. "It is not your life!" He pointed at Dumbledore, shaking at the rage that was running through him. "Even if it would have made the loss harder, they should have known. They have that right." He dropped his hand, his knees buckling under him. He collapsed in the chair and repeated, "It is not your life." Harry pushed his hand up under his glasses, pinching his eyes as tears threatened to make an appearance. He would not give Dumbledore the satisfaction of seeing him break down.

Dumbledore stared in concern at the man who was shaking in the chair in front of him. Clearly there was more going on here than just a righteous anger about Serena Snape and what he had or had not done for Snape and his family.

He sighed and said softly, "No, it is not. But I could not care about them any more even if they were members of my own family. Contrary to what you believe, I was not trying to control them; I was merely trying to protect them. I could not tell Severus that he not only lost a wife, but a child as well, when he was attempting to deal with Sidney's episodes, Mesmordia's withdrawal, and his own grief."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Sidney's episodes?" he questioned.

"So there was something the good agent forgot to inform you of," Albus said roughly.

"Don't push it," Harry said gritting his teeth. "What sort of episodes did Sidney have?"

Albus rubbed the sides of his head. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Sidney was the one who found the body."

"What?" Harry was startled at this revelation. He looked away, trying to remember if Anthony had made any mention of the student who had found the body.

"After he found his mother's body, he began to suffer some devastating panic attacks and nightmares." Albus dropped his hands to his lap, his head still pounding.

"He saw what Malfoy had done to his mother? What that sick bastard had carved into the body?" Harry asked, horrified.

Albus nodded. "Yes, though he has never spoken a word about it to Severus or I. It seems he only finds comfort in the graveyard."

'That would explain his constant presence in the graveyard,' he thought, remembering the day he had arrived at Hogwarts. "Why didn't you use a Memory Charm? Surely you wouldn't want him to remember that?" Harry asked trying to wrap his mind around what he would do and feel if he found his mother's dead body desecrated in such a way.

"I offered, but Severus refused. He said that he would not subject his son to having his memories stolen. I think it reminded him too much of the tactics that Voldemort often used. As painful as the memories would be, he made it clear that he did not want his son's mind toyed with."

Harry laid his head back against the chair, feeling emotionally drained. He closed his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. "When has knowing the wishes of another person, ever stopped you before?"

"Harry," he murmured. "I did what I thought was best."

He sat up, his eyes boring into the anguished Headmaster. He pushed aside the disconcerting realization that said he had never seen Dumbledore in so much pain.

"You will tell him," Harry said forcefully.

A stricken look flew across Dumbledore's face. "I cannot," he said brokenly. "He will never forgive me."

"You will tell him," Harry repeated. "Or I will do it for you. This is not negotiable. I have watched you pull the strings of too many people I care about, only to have them suffer unimaginable consequences because you did something that you thought was for the best. It will stop now."

Albus shakily licked his lips, feeling as though he were losing the last of his control over the situation that had already spiraled in unthinkable ways.

"You must allow me time to properly prepare for such a revelation. I would also like a little time to gauge Severus' reaction as well. You owe me this much, Harry," he said warily.

That may have been the wrong thing to say. Harry leaned forward, his eyes flashing with an intense hatred that chilled the Headmaster. "I owe you nothing, Dumbledore, absolutely nothing." He opened and closed his mouth as though he were about to add something, but decided against it. Looking away, he continued, "But I will give you time to prepare, because if Snape is anything like I remember, he will not take this news well."

'That would be an understatement, my boy,' Albus thought. "How long do I have?" he asked hoarsely.

"I will give you one month to reveal the truth," Harry looked back at him. "The whole truth, not your twisted version." He stood and stalked to the door, giving the Headmaster one last cold look before he left. "And God help you when he finds out."

* * *

**A/N: Please let me know what you think. If you think it is crap, let me know and I will try to improve. Thanks for all the feedback. The more reviews I get, the more inclined I am to force myself to sit down and write. So, fair warning! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Wow! I owe everyone a huge apology. I never intended to go this long without an update. I am in the last six months of my master's program and I am literally in the class from hell. The amount of work this professor expects is ungodly and I still have my regular classroom duties as well. So, I just want to ask for your patience. The next six weeks are going to be very difficult and I will try my best not to let a month lapse before my next update. **

**I also seemed to be having a little writer's block as well. I wrote this chapter in so many pieces and then tried to fit it together. My sister says it makes sense, but let me know what you think. If it is terrible, please let me know and I will attempt to do a better job! This is definitely a transitional chapter setting the scene for some interesting confrontations and happenings that will develop later on. Again, I apologize for the amount of time that has passed. I really, really feel horrible. But on the plus side, this is the longest chapter I have ever written! **

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Harry exited his chambers in a foul mood, glaring at the noisy students in the hallway, their greetings dying on their lips as they took one look at their favorite professor's face. It had been two weeks since his confrontation with Dumbledore and the man had not even attempted to talk with Snape. In fact, the Headmaster appeared to be doing his best to avoid the Potions master: skipping meals and leaving with some asinine excuse whenever Snape entered a room. Bitterness had begun to settle in Harry's chest. He had a feeling the old bastard was going to make him break the news to Snape about Malfoy's escape from Azkaban and subsequent role in Serena's death. He was just hopeful that Snape would remember the old adage not to kill the messenger.

To make matters worse, he hadn't had a decent night's rest since finding out about Malfoy's escape. Anthony had been kind enough to keep him informed of what the Ministry knew, which turned out to be precious little. It definitely wasn't enough to put Harry at ease. Malfoy was an expert at disappearing and his next moves were never clear until it was too late.

Every night Harry would fall into bed, exhausted by being on constant surveillance, only to find himself haunted by images and memories of the past. The only peaceful moments of the last two weeks had been the nights that Esme had visited him. They had settled into a comfortable routine of talking after dinner and discussing a variety of subjects. Harry found her to be intelligent, quick-witted, and funny; like her father, minus the snarky attitude.

_Esme moved her white queen into position, a satisfied smile gracing her face. "Checkmate," she said proudly, leaning back in the chair and folding her hands over her stomach._

_Harry leaned over the board, scowling. He looked up and gave her dark look which only caused her to dissolve into giggles. _

"_What is so funny?" he asked sorely, still upset that she had managed to figure out his strategy and evade it so effectively._

_She tilted her head, and said dryly, "Are you really trying to intimidate me, Professor Potter? You do remember who my father is, correct?"_

_He rubbed the back of his head and grinned wryly. "It is a little hard to forget."_

"_If I am unfazed by his tactics, why on earth would I be deterred by yours?" she said a corner of her mouth uplifted in mockery._

Shaking his head and smiling slightly, he sighed, his mind brought back to the present as he made his way down to the dungeons. He was so exhausted that he was willing to suck it up and ask Snape for sleeping draught, though Merlin knew what Snape would ask or expect in return.

He stopped at the intimidating door, and swallowed nervously, before knocking loudly. The door opened with a swish and Harry saw a quick look of surprise cross Snape's face before settling into the familiar sneer. "Potter," he said annoyed, "what do you want?"

Harry glanced at the students who were milling in the hallway between classes and looked back at Snape. "May I come in? I need to speak to you."

Severus rolled his eyes and stepped back. Harry entered the lab and found his eyes wandering over the tables. He felt Snape brush past him, moving to stand before a roiling cauldron. Harry watched silently as Snape's practiced eye assessed the potion, nodding slightly in satisfaction. Cold black eyes then pinned him with a gaze and Harry shivered involuntarily.

"Are you waiting for an engraved invitation, Potter? Say what you want and get out."

Harry gritted his teeth stopping the harsh reply that was on the tip of his tongue, reminding himself that he was about to ask the man for a favor and not to say something he would regret. "I-I was wondering if I could get a sleeping draught from you." He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, hoping that Snape would not notice his slight stutter. Never show Snape a weakness. How often had he repeated that mantra as a student? Not that it had helped then or now.

"Trouble sleeping already? The term has barely begun. If your constitution is so delicate, how are you going to survive an entire year?" Snape asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at Harry's stony silence.

"I suppose Dumbledore sent you down here. It never ceases to amaze me how I am expected to drop everything to help the precious 'boy who lived'. As if I have nothing better to do than make sure that you are absolutely comfortable." Severus pursed his lips and looked away from Harry.

"Don't call me that," Harry said, green eyes blazing. "And Dumbledore did not send me down here. I came of my own accord."

Severus studied him. "If a draught is all that you require, why did you simply not stop in the infirmary and have Poppy dispense one?"

"Because I knew that if I wanted the best, I would have to ask you. And besides, the one I received from Poppy didn't work very well." Harry replied with a wide grin.

Snape's lips twitched and Harry could have sworn that he was about to smile, but it was gone in an instant and he wondered if he had simply imagined it.

Severus glanced at the cauldron. Grimacing, he picked up his wand and muttered a quick stasis spell, freezing the potion in mid-boil. He turned the wand over in his hand, running his thumb over the smooth wood. He looked up at Harry and narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want from me?"

The question threw Harry and he looked at Snape confused. "I simply want a sleeping draught."

The answer did not seem to satisfy Severus and he shook his head as he laid his wand down on the table. He had a feeling that Snape was about to soundly refuse to even consider helping him out. Harry ran a hand over his eyes, feeling the lack of sleep in every fiber of his being. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the rest of the school day. Why wouldn't Snape just give him the blasted potion? Did he really still hate Harry that much that even giving him a draught was out of the question? He breathed in deeply, eyes closed, wanting nothing more to sleep and forget everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Hell, he would like to forget the last twenty years while he was at it.

A question seemed to float in on the haze of fatigue that Harry was currently experiencing. "How long have you been having trouble sleeping?" asked a disembodied voice.

Harry considered the question, forgetting for a moment to whom he was speaking. "Ever since I learned that Ma-," his eyes flew open and he saw Snape standing before him, head bent low, scratching a few notes on a scrap of paper. He looked up when Harry stopped.

"Since when?" he asked, harshly. "If you expect me to be able to help you, I need to know exactly when you started having trouble sleeping and what you think may be causing it."

Harry paled and looked around the room trying to think fast on how he could cover up his momentous slip. "I-I've had trouble sleeping ever since I learned that mastery is expected instead of just imparting basic knowledge to the students. I guess it is guilt that I won't be a successful teacher." As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he could pull them back in. That had to be the lamest excuse he'd ever come up with. And to think that he had been considered one of the top men in the Ministry. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Snape just glowered at him and Harry knew that his feeble explanation had not been believed.

Throwing down the quill on the table, Snape turned and opened a cupboard behind him searching the contents. Pulling a vial out, he closed the door with a snap and stared at the bottle in his hand. He rubbed a thumb over the label and closed his eyes. Harry took the opportunity to step forward and peer at the glass vial encased in the tight grip. He caught a glimpse of distinctly feminine writing.

Snape opened his eyes and thrust the vial into Harry's hand, catching Harry so off guard he almost dropped it on the floor. He fumbled with the bottle, holding it tightly when he managed to attain control. Looking down, he read the words silently: 'Serena's Sleeping Draught'.

He glanced up at Snape from under his lashes and was not surprised to see the man bent over the cauldron, ignoring him. He had just shown Harry more emotion in a few moments than he had in the entire seven years he had been his professor.

"Thank you for this, Severus," he said quietly, emphasizing the use of his first name, sincerely hoping that the past could be put behind them. "I truly appreciate it. I wish there was something that I could do to repay for your kindness." He held up the bottle. "I've heard that this draught is amazing. I wanted to read the paper you wrote about it, but you remember what kind of Potions students I was. I doubt I could understand anything beyond the title," he babbled, stopping when he saw Severus straighten up and glance over his shoulder, his dark eyes burning into Harry's.

"And how, pray tell, did you happen to hear about his particular draught? I don't believe that Potions manuals and journals were on the top of your preferred reading list as a student and I highly doubt that has changed."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he cursed himself for the second time since entering the lab. He knew that he couldn't reveal to the man that his daughter had been the one to tell him about the draught.

_A series of rapid knocks sounded urgently on his door. Harry quickly opened it, expecting to find a distraught student or worse: Anthony with news about Malfoy. Instead he was confronted by a beaming Esme. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes and a wide toothy smile on her face. She was smiling so wide, his cheeks began to hurt just looking at her._

"_I have the best news, Harry!" she squealed, pulling a journal from behind her back. On the front was a picture of Snape, a condescending look on his face. A smoking caldron was in front of him and the words "Hogwarts Professor Wins Raulbia Award" scrolling on the bottom of the page._

_Harry cocked his head and studied the photo of the man who had made his life so difficult as a student. Focusing on Snape's face, he brought the journal closer and saw a look of discomfort behind the condescension._

"_He doesn't look very pleased. What exactly is the Raulbia Award?" he asked, handing the journal back to Esme._

"_Well, my father doesn't like a lot of fuss. He'd rather be holed up in his laboratory than talking to reporters or accepting awards. You should have seen the photographer's face after my father was done with him."_

"_I can only imagine," Harry replied dryly, remembering the tongue lashings he had received from Snape. He smiled as he watched Esme look lovingly at the picture of her father. She was proud of him, that much was evident. Snape was very lucky, whether he realized it or not._

"_He looks very handsome, doesn't he?" she asked, glancing up at Harry._

_Harry sputtered and choked back a laugh. "If you say so," he said diplomatically. "What is the Raulbia Award?" he repeated, ready to change subjects. _

"_Jacques Raulbia was the Potions master at Andréa's School of Magic. That's where my mother taught before coming to Hogwarts. He wrote several books about potions that he, sometimes with my mother's help, had created. After he died, an award was created that was given to other men and women who made great contributions to the field of Potions." _

"_So what great contribution did your father make to the 'field of potion'?" he asked sincerely. _

_Esme eyed him disapprovingly. "Do you not think he deserves such an award? He has dedicated his entire life to creating and fine tuning potions to make our lives better. What else would he have to do?"_

_Harry felt as though he had hit upon a sore point unintentionally. "No," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "It's obvious that he deserves such an award. I was just curious as to what he did specifically to be singled out for recognition."_

_Esme bit her lip and a smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Harry. I am just so used to having to defend my father against accusations that I naturally assume that everyone is thinking the worst of him."_

'_Perhaps they are,' he wanted to say, but wisely choosing to stay quiet. _

"_To answer your question: he developed a concentrated version of a non-addictive sleeping draught that my mother used when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She was able to use it monthly to ward off night terrors that she had."_

_That caught Harry's attention. "Night terrors? This draught worked well enough that she was able to use it monthly?"_

_Esme nodded. "Yes, however the version my father created could be used nightly with no side effects. Plus, as a concentrate, only a drop is needed. A batch would last three times as long. It was more efficient and cost-effective. It's all in the article my father wrote for the journal." She tilted her chin up and smiled brightly._

_Harry took the journal from her hands, flipping through the pages, stopping at the article that Snape had written. He read the first paragraph, his forehead creasing as he attempted to understand the technical jargon. Closing the journal, he handed it back to Esme and offered her a cup of tea. As he listened to her talk about her classes, his mind began to wander; a concentrated draught that could be used nightly to combat night terrors? It sounded exactly like the answer to his whispered midnight prayers to an unseen god. _

Glancing at Snape, he saw that his trip down memory lane had done nothing but increase Snape's suspicion. "Ah, I think Dumbledore mentioned something about it the last time that I saw him." '_Merlin, Harry_,' he berated himself. His skills of deception were becoming quite rusty. Or perhaps he just was unable to lie about Snape. Either way, it wasn't a comforting thought.

"I don't believe so, Potter," Snape said, his voice dangerously low. "Try again."

Harry gripped the bottle tightly and stared at the top of the table, refusing to answer. He wasn't about to reveal the true source of the information and put Esme is danger of Snape's wrath.

Severus took a step toward Harry, his voice still low but tinged with coldness. "Are you spending time with my daughter, Potter? Destroying one young life wasn't enough for you?"

Harry looked up defiantly. "You have no idea what you are talking about."

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Then I must be mistaken, because I was quite sure that Ginny Weasley died because of you." He held up his hands in mock surrender and took a step back, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. "But don't think for one moment that I will allow you to do the same thing to my daughter. She is young, far too young for you. She has her whole life in front of her. I will not allow her to waste it on a bitter, old war hero who is simply using her to replace the memory of his 'lost love'," he said contemptuously.

"I would never do that to Esme," Harry said softly, Snape's words hitting a little too close for comfort.

Severus shook his head, looking disgusted. "You never intend to do a lot of things, Potter. But somehow around you, people die. I don't want Esme to be one of the casualties." He turned back to the cauldron, waving his wand over the potion and removing the stasis charm. Harry knew that he was effectively being dismissed.

Walking to the door, he stopped when he heard Snape address him. "If you truly want to repay me for the draught, Potter, then you will stay the hell away from my daughter."

Harry looked back. "I can't make any promises, sir," he said before letting the door slam shut, punctuating his statement.

Severus stared at the door, clenching his fists. It seemed that Esme had not listened to his warning. If Potter refused to heed his advice, he would have no choice but to take it a step further. Burning smoke reached his nose causing his eyes to water. Glaring at the cauldron, he saw the remnants of his experimental potion going up in billowing black smoke before his eyes. Severus grabbed his wand and flicked it angrily over the cauldron. The cauldron, smoke, and ruined potion disappeared immediately leaving Severus with nothing to show for an afternoon of work.

Stalking into his office, he unbuttoned his robe and removed it, throwing it on the nearby chair. Sitting in his chair, he steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and contemplated everything he had managed to glean from his conversation with Potter. He snorted as he thought about Potter's reasoning for why he was having trouble sleeping. As if concern for teaching had ever been on Harry's mind. No, something else was going on here and for some inexplicable reason, Severus was feeling a growing sense of unease.

* * *

Esme stood at the front of the room, warily watching as her class of 7th year students practiced the Flame-Freezing Charm they had learned a few days before. The class consisted of students from all four houses who would be required to be experts on various charms in their chosen fields. She had been extremely pleased with their level of knowledge and the progress that they had made in the last several weeks, but she was feeling a little nervous with the dozen small fires that were burning around the room. She was doing her best not to hover over the students, to give them a sense of independence and accomplishment, but it more difficult than she had anticipated.

"Professor Snape?" a brunette Ravenclaw called as she waved a hand in the air, attempting to get her teacher's attention.

"Yes, Miss Murphy? What seems to be the problem?" Esme asked as she neared the table.

The girl bit her lip and gestured toward the fire pit that had been created especially for this lesson to contain the flames. Although with the level of magic that was flying around the room, there was no guarantee of anything. Esme examined the pit and looked back up at the girl, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't understand why you called me over Miss Murphy. Everything seems to be in order. Have you managed to freeze the flame yet?" She looked at the girl's partner who was leaning against the table, his arms crossed defiantly. "Or has Mr. Dennison?"

"That's the problem, Professor Snape. Alex," she glared at the boy, "Alex says that he doesn't trust me to freeze the flame without hurting him, because he thinks that I'm mad that he asked Miranda out instead of me." The girl finished the last part in one breath, turning her wide brown eyes expectantly to her Professor.

Esme just stared at the two students in front of her, her mouth dropping open slightly, words refusing to come. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that? Finally, she blinked her eyes and looked around at the rest of the class. All eyes were on the pair at the front of the room waiting to see how the Professor would deal with the lovers', or in this case wannabe lovers', spat. Catching the eye of a seventh year Slytherin, she beckoned him over, turning back to the two students.

"Miss Murphy, Mr. Dennison, this is a classroom, a place to learn. It is not a dating service or a place to work out whatever personal issues you may have with each other. However, since you seem unable to work with each other, I will reassign your lab partners. Miss Murphy, your new partner is Mr. Cranston." She glanced at the young man who had stepped beside her, his cool eyes surveying the pair with distaste. The young Ravenclaw paled and nodded once, gathering her books and making her way over to the far table where her new partner had been working.

Esme pursed her lips. "As for you, Mr. Dennison, you are now paired with Mr. Johnston. I trust that you will not anger him by asking out his friend." She ran a hardened gaze over the rest of the class as they snickered. "I suggest that the rest of you leave all your personal issues at the door when you step into this room. The next pair that seems to have trouble working together will fail the assignment and your placement in this class will be in jeopardy. Now get to work. You have half an hour to complete the assignment."

She turned on her heel and headed back to her desk, her heart thundering in her chest. She allowed a small smile to cross her face before sitting down at her desk and facing the students. That had been her first conflict in class and she felt like she had handled it well. Probably not up to her father's standards, as he would have likely ripped them apart, but she was very pleased.

She glanced at the back table to see how Miss Murphy was getting along with her new partner. Loran Cranston was an exceptional student and Rebekah Murphy would learn a lot from him. Loran must have felt Esme's gaze, because he raised his head, a smirk settling on his lips. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, watching her for a few moments before turning to answer a question that Rebekah had asked. Esme sat back feeling as though she had just been assessed and judged, though she wasn't sure what the final decision had been.

The clock at the back of the classroom chimed and Esme stood. "Before you leave, please make sure to extinguish your fire. Also, I want a complete synopsis of the results or any problems that you had with this charm on my desk tomorrow." She smiled at the groans that echoed around the room. "Keep complaining and I'll add another five inches on the history of the charm." She swore that she could hear the mouths snap shut at the threat of the extended assignment.

She watched as the students quickly and efficiently extinguished the fires and deserted the classroom. She sighed and closed her lesson plan book, thankful that this was her last class of the day. Perhaps this evening she could interest Harry in a chess rematch. A corner of her mouth lifted as she remembered the last time they had played. He had sulked for an hour after she had soundly beaten him. Who knew that he was such a sore loser? She had a feeling it would be rather difficult to convince him to participate in another match.

"Professor Snape?" a low voice asked. Esme's head shot up startled out of her momentary ruminations.

"Mr. Cranston," she said pleasantly. "I just want to thank you for assisting me today. I know that switching partners was probably not your first choice, but I appreciate it."

He stared at her, his blue eyes seemed again to be assessing her, but for what she could not even begin to fathom. Her smile faded and she asked, "Was there something that you required of me?"

"I was just wondering how you were doing."

Esme tilted her head and eyed him in confusion. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Cranston."

He shifted and looked at the floor, shoving his hands into the folds of his robe. Looking at her from under the fringe of his hair, he said quietly, "Since your mother's death."

Esme stiffened and bit the inside of her cheek. "I think, Mr. Cranston, that such a personal matter would not be appropriate for you and I to discuss." She felt an ache in the center of her stomach and she bit the inside of her cheek harder to keep from crying.

When she felt in control once again, she narrowed her eyes and looked at the student in front of her, his head still bent toward the floor. "Why would you ask me such a question? You are I were never close even when I was a student. We were in different houses, had different friends, and different interests. Why would you feel the need to inquire as to how I was handling my mother's death?"

Loran's dark head lifted and she was chilled by the cold look he gave her. "I overheard my father," he paused and smirked slightly, "talking with one of his business associates about the details of your mother's death. It sounded extremely ruthless" He raised an eyebrow and his smirk deepened. "I just wondered how you were dealing with the fact that your mother's death was not coincidental."

Esme paled and leaned against the table. "What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly unable to breathe.

Loran shrugged and glanced at the door, appearing to suddenly be bored by the conversation. "I don't know," he replied indifferently. "My father caught me listening outside the door." He turned his head back toward her slowly. "Perhaps you should speak to him about it."

"Perhaps I should," she answered, her voice no more than a whisper in the room. She cleared her throat and continued, her voice a little stronger. "I think it is time that you left Mr. Cranston. I have other matters that I need to attend to. Thank you for your concern, but I assure you that it is not needed."

Loran offered a cold smile as he nodded his head. "I will see you tomorrow, Professor."

Esme slid into the chair as the door slammed shut, echoing in the sudden stillness of the room. She flicked her wand toward the door, locking it and setting a silencing charm. Once she knew she was alone, she buried her head in her arms and sobbed. Loran's last words echoed over and over in her head, setting her on edge. She leaned over, emptying the contents of her stomach into the trash receptacle near her desk. Chest heaving, she shakily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before dry heaves forced her to lean over the can again. Sitting back, she wrapped her arms around her body, feeling a chill from what she had learned. Loran Cranston's father knew something about her mother's death. Perhaps it was time she had a parent-teacher conference with Feenick Cranston.

**Please let me know what you think. I am not really sure what to make of this chapter, so please give me some feedback! Thanks in advance!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Again, I am sorry for the huge delay, but good news! I finished my huge research project and should have more time to write- Yea! I am also on Spring Break and should have a couple of chapters up this week. I have really missed writing this story and hope that I have not been away from it for too long. The action continues to build and I dropped in a few clues as to what happens in the upcoming chapters. As always, let me know what you think!**

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The large tawny owl soared through the Great Hall dropping the creamy envelope it was clutching in its talons in front of the youngest Professor Snape. Picking up the letter, Esme studied the family crest, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Love letter from a persistent suitor?" Harry teased as he settled into the chair on her left. He took his napkin and laid it across his lap. When no answer was forthcoming from Esme, he glanced up at her, his head tilted as he watched her chew her bottom lip, the letter still unopened.

"Esme?" he questioned. Her head lifted, green eyes clouded in thought. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, shoving the letter into her pocket. "Yes, just a letter from the parents of one of my students. I requested a conference with them." She picked up her fork and pushed the scrambled eggs aside, her stomach rebelling at the thought of putting the rubbery looking substance into her body.

"Calling in the parents already?" Harry asked as he shoved a forkful of the eggs into his mouth. "Must be quite the little trouble-maker," he remarked around the mouthful of food, swallowing before taking a swig of pumpkin juice, and completely missing the distressed look that flittered across her face.

"Yes, something like that," she answered faintly. She glanced to her right, noticing that her father had yet to join them for breakfast. Sighing, she balled her napkin in her hand, depositing on her plate, knowing that she would be unable to eat anything till she had the chance to read the letter from Feenick Cranston.

A shadow covered her and she glanced up, a smile lighting her face when she saw her brother.

"Good morning Sidney. Breakfast is still being served. Are you sick or something?" she teased. Her brother was not a morning person and rarely made it to the Great Hall for breakfast. More often than not, he would sneak into the kitchen during class and pester the house-elves for leftovers.

Sidney stuck his tongue out in annoyance before his eyes slid to Harry who was watching the exchange with great amusement. A blush colored his cheeks and he looked back at Esme mortified.

"Father wants to see you in his office after breakfast," Sidney replied stiffly, running a hand through his straggly mane and tucking it behind his ears.

"Why?" she asked, a momentary resentment creeping in. Her father never hesitated to summon her to his office when he wanted something.

Sidney shrugged and smoothed his robe and glanced up at her. "Have you done something, or someone, you shouldn't have?" he asked acidly, his gaze shifting suggestively to Potter. Harry choked on the biscuit he had been chewing.

"Sidney!" his sister hissed. "That is enough. Tell father I will come see him when I able."

"I wouldn't wait to long, Es. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting," Sidney replied, one dark eyebrow raised.

"And I don't like to be summoned like a mischievous student," she responded. She leaned forward and said darkly, "I will be there when I can be there."

Sidney huffed and left, sauntering through the Great Hall to deliver the message, probably with his own twist, to her father. Esme sighed and sat back, the letter poking uncomfortably into her side. She had more important issues to concern herself with than her father's summons. Keeping her eyes glued firmly to her plate, she said softly, "I am sorry Harry, for Sidney's insinuation. He often says things to get a rise out of me. And he always knows exactly where to strike to get the biggest response."

She stood and pushed her chair in, pausing before she left. Her hands gripped the edge of the chair tightly, her knuckles turning white. "I don't believe that I will be able to see you tonight. It seems the other men in my life are making demands on my time. Perhaps tomorrow?" she suggested.

"Sure, I should probably use the time to catch up on grading that I have let slide."

She nodded and left quietly, not even bothering to say good-bye. Harry sat back, confused by all that had happened in such a short amount of time. The phrase 'other men in my life' kept replaying in his mind. Obviously, she considered him one of the men in her life, but in what context? Harry wasn't sure which bothered him more, that she thought of him as a loved one, or that she didn't.

Esme opened the door to her office and quickly shut it behind her. She waved her wand distractedly, murmuring a simple securing and silencing spell. She didn't want to be disturbed.

Pulling the letter out of her robe, she slid a finger under the wax seal, and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I am sorry that this letter is overdue. Business has delayed my ability to maintain my correspondence. I can be at the school at 3:00 P.M. today. If this is not acceptable, please let me know as soon as possible._

_Feenick Cranston_

Esme dropped the letter on her desk and glanced at the clock on the mantle: 7:45. In a few hours, she would have Mr. Cranston in front of her and maybe she could finally find the answers to the questions that had been haunting her since her mother's death.

* * *

Snape glanced at his son, irritated by what he had been told. "What do you mean she is not coming?"

Sidney picked up a glass container on the table and held it up to the light. He closed one eye and studied the contents. A satisfied grin spread across his face as he recognized the ingredient: bicorn horn powder. His father reached over and grabbed the vial out of his hands and scowled at him.

Sidney smiled, unruffled by his father's dark look. He had seen it enough that it had long since lost its effectiveness.

"I never said she _wasn't_ coming," he emphasized. "I simply said that she would come when she was able." He ran his fingers over the silver tools lying on the table, stopping at the large dagger. Running a finger along the edge, he watched fascinated as a line of blood sprang to the surface of his skin, pooling into a drop that eventually splattered on the table. He looked up at his father, whose eyes were drawn to the drop of blood that now marred his perfect table. Sidney knew it was killing him not to reach over and remove the offending pollutant.

"But I think you may be waiting quite awhile for her grand appearance," Sidney said, relishing his father's complete attention, even if it was, once again, all about Esme. He was going to drag this out as long as he could.

Snape merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Sidney glanced around the lab, wondering how much time he had spent in this place.

"Sidney," his father growled when Sidney failed to elaborate on his previous comment.

He sighed knowing that he had waited long enough. "Considering how chummy she and Potter were acting, I would say that her visit will not come anytime soon."

Snape slammed the table with his fist and took a deep breath. A cloud of black anger threatened to overtake him. Breathing in deeply, he felt the rage begin to pass. Glancing at his son, he asked in a surprisingly calm voice, "Are you and Dominic still planning the little gift for Potter this evening?"

Sidney smirked. "It's all set. He won't know what hit him."

Severus nodded. "Good," he replied, straightening and walking toward his office. "I have a matter that I need to attend to. Let yourself out." He paused and turned around, "And Sidney, try not to get caught."

Sidney watched his father leave the room, wondering why he felt a sudden sense of dread. Perhaps he shouldn't have lied about Esme and Potter's closeness. If anything, his sister had seemed distant and barely able to hold a conversation with the man. Sidney pushed down the guilty feeling, telling himself that from the moment his sister became friends with Potter, she deserved whatever their father was planning. He ignored the voice that asked if his pain and anger was more important than his sister's happiness, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother.

* * *

Esme opened the door, plastering a smile on her face that was not quite genuine.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cranston, please come in," she gestured toward the room, her smile faltering as she studied the man who passed by and sat in one of the nearby wingback chairs. Closing the door, she walked back to her desk, settling into the chair and trying to calm her racing heart.

Looking up, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in thought. Feenick Cranston was nothing like she pictured. He was a short, squat man with thinning hair and a pale complexion. His eyes nervously shifted around the room, their speed and changes of direction making Esme feel nauseous. A sheen of sweat began to bead on the man's forehead and she watched as the beads collected and rolled into the man's eyes, which only increased his blinking. Mr. Cranston reached into his robe and pulled out a large white handkerchief, mopping the sweat off his brow and smiling tightly at Esme.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Cranston. The reason I contacted you, is that I am a little concerned about Loran's recent behavior."

If it were possible, Mr. Cranston's face paled even further and Esme briefly wondered what she would do if the man passed out in the chair.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked faintly.

"He has said some inappropriate things to me regarding my mother's death," Esme answered honestly, foregoing her previous plan of not bringing her mother into this conversation. But after a few moments with Feenick Cranston, she knew there was no way he was involved, or even knew anything about, Serena's death. The man was practically falling apart.

"I apologize, Professor Snape, I-I will speak to Loran immediately about his conduct," Feenick Cranston mumbled, a look of terror crossing his face before he brought the handkerchief up to his forehead once again.

Esme bit her lip wondering how much information she should share with him. Glancing up, she decided she had nothing to lose. "Loran also mentioned that you knew something about my mother's death. That he overheard you and a business partner discussing it before he came to Hogwarts."

Cranston's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. A tremor ran through him and he leaned forward, glancing over his shoulder at the door. Turning back to Esme, he lowered his voice.

"I too, Professor Snape, am concerned about Loran's behavior. I mean he's not perfect, but until recently, he has never given me a moment's worry," he ran the handkerchief through his hands, pulling on a string that had unraveled from the edge.

"I sent him to see his grandfather, my wife's father, this summer. Loran has always expressed an interest in working for the Ministry and his grandfather, Ethan Rosier, had many contacts that I thought would be good for Loran to meet." He gave Esme a wry look. "You know how politically motivated the Ministry is. If you don't know somebody, who knows somebody, it is rather difficult to find a job."

Esme shook her head in understanding. She knew many qualified men and women who were unable to get a job, simply because of their 'lack of connections'.

"Loran spent two months with his grandfather. When he returned, he was…" Feenick Cranston paused and once again eyed the door. Turning his attention back to the handkerchief that was balled in his hands, he repeated quietly, "When he returned, he was different. He was defiant, cruel, and malicious. And his eyes were so cold and hard. They seemed to follow my every move, always demanding to know what I was doing and where I was going." He raised his eyes to meet hers and she was struck by the fear that was evident.

"I felt like a prisoner in my own home, Professor, and to be completely honest, I was so relieved when it was time for the term to begin." Feenick sat back and rubbed his chin wearily.

"What do you think happened to Loran?" Esme whispered, her mind reeling with the information that had been shared.

Cranston shook his head. "I have no idea. I just know that the boy who returned from his grandfather's is not the same boy that I sent."

"Have you contacted his grandfather to see if anything unusual happened over the summer?"

Cranston smiled ruefully. "Of course, Professor. I love my son and wanted to know what had happened. But every one of my letters to Ethan was returned unopened. I even showed up on his doorstep, only to be turned away and warned never to return. Loran was furious when he found out that I had attempted to see his grandfather."

Cranston sighed and shifted in his seat. "I have no idea what to do, and I am ashamed to admit that I am afraid of my own son."

Esme folded her hands in her lap and gazed thoughtfully at the man in front of her. "Perhaps we should speak to Dumbledore about this. He might be able to ascertain what happened to Loran."

Cranston licked his lips and shakily ran a hand through his sparse hair, the movement causing sections to stand on end. "I cannot see Dumbledore. Loran has already forbidden me to speak with the Headmaster. I am sure that he already knows that I have come to Hogwarts and he will be displeased." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You have no idea what he is capable of."

She leaned forward and gave him a sympathetic look. "I understand, Mr. Cranston. I thank you for telling me what you have. I will not ask for any further assistance from you. I, however, do not think I can keep quiet about what has happened to Loran."

Feenick Cranston stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for understanding, Professor. I know you must think I am a foolish, weak old man, but you have not seen what I have seen."

Esme watched in silence as Cranston exited the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts. What had happened to Loran Cranston over the summer and how was it connected to her mother? Esme chewed her bottom lip and distractedly headed toward the Headmaster's office, not noticing the slight shimmer in the corner of her office as Loran Cranston pulled the Invisibility Cloak off his head, a furious expression on his face.

"Oh, Father, Father, Father," he sighed as he shook his head sadly. "I warned you, but you didn't listen. Now you will have to pay the price for such a betrayal. As for you, Professor Snape, I think you are too smart for your own good." A twisted smile marred his handsome face. "I shall enjoy tremendously bringing you down a notch."

He brought the cloak back up over his head and swept unnoticed down the hallway, his mind focused on what he had planned for little Mesmordia Snape.

**I should have another chapter up in a couple of days. I am going to get as much writing in as I possibly can. Let me know what you think.**


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